Paean of Apollo
by displacedtexan
Summary: Kotoko's and Naoki's calm life in Kobe is disrupted by a celebrity patient from Kotoko's past, a nursing intern from Tonan Hospital, and a mother who has decided that she has waited long enough for the two to get married. Sequel to Galatea at College.
1. Chapter 1

AN1: I do not own Itazura na Kiss. Still.

AN2: This was written to counteract the anguish I had to go through with my last story ( _Intermission_ ). I am hoping that this one makes you laugh instead of cry.

* * *

"Please! Enough!"

"And you call yourself a professional athlete? All I see is a pitiful wuss. Give me five more knee lifts."

"Aargh!" The perspiring man managed one but only lifted the weights a quarter of the way the second time before letting them drop down with a clank. "Mercy! Come on, Ai-kun! Give me a break!"

A hard plastic clipboard smacked the top of his head none too gently. "What have I told you goobers about calling me that?" Kotoko shifted to his side and pointed to his face. "What is my name?"

Eyes crossed on the digit inches from his nose, he answered, "Aihara-san."

"Right." She pulled a pen from behind her ear. "And, Mido, if you don't manage four more of these bad boys, then '-san' is going to change to '-sama' for the rest of the week."

He scowled, grunted, and began to lift the weights in a slow regular pattern. The words "terrifying", "sadistic", and "overbearing" may have been muttered, but the observing therapist ignored them. She had heard much worse.

* * *

"Aihara-san!" called Matasuura Yoshiko, the nursing supervisor who _technically_ oversaw the sports rehabilitation center. (With her other myriad duties, she was more than happy to leave its day-by-day management in the capable hands of Kotoko.) Standing at the door of Kotoko's office, she scolded, "Again with the old-school note-taking. After all the money that Vissel Kobe spent to make this facility high-tech—and for you!—still you persist with paper notes!"

Kotoko raised her head and blinked at her. "I'm such a klutz that we'd be replacing an electronic tablet at least once a week. I'd rather the money go to something that directly impacts the patients."

* * *

Indeed, the main reason that Kobe University Hospital had the shiny and sparkling addition for their expanded physical therapy program was due to the young woman patiently transcribing her handwritten scrawls. After completing the program at SuSe, she had joined the local professional soccer team as their on-site trainer and therapist.

That position had only lasted a year. The actual work of the job itself was not overly onerous; it was the after-hours demands on her time that got her goat. There was a certain cadre of team members who, for whatever reason (probably their exceptional talent and accompanying ego), believed themselves exempt from particular team rules. Her old friend from childhood was a member, if not the leader, of them. She had received one too many late-night calls from Shitara to arrange for safe transportation and a back entrance to the team hotel after a night carousing.

Of course, superfluous errands such as that were not gratis. Those particular team members were always assigned extra sets of suicides during the next day's training. These additional exertions interacted poorly with the weak dispositions left over from their previous evening's adventures. She provided several buckets at the sidelines for their convenience; sometimes the players were able to make it to them before emptying their stomachs.

In addition to putting up with what she referred to as "grown men acting like juveniles", the travel time away from Naoki made neither of them happy, so she managed to find a job at the hospital where he was completing his training. The soccer organization saw this as an opportunity to gain some positive public relations points as well as improve the level of care and rehabilitation that the team might need without having to construct an expensive complex for their sole use. The facility's two luxurious suites could please even the pickiest of VIP patients who needed to stay on-site; although the space was primarily designed for Vissel Kobe team members, other sports teams and various celebrities also took advantage of its services—at a premium price. As a result, when the proposal was made to the hospital, Kotoko's name was praised so highly that Naoki informed her that, at that point in time, he trailed her in employee value for bringing such a heady combination of funds, esteem, and publicity.

* * *

The supervisor moved on to the purpose of her visit. "Well, at any rate, the facility and your success have received so much acclaim that we have been inundated with requests for internships. The first nurse to shadow and learn from you will arrive next month."

"What?" This was not as welcome news as might be anticipated. Kotoko usually had to take on an overly strict persona, sometimes even rude, with new patients who either saw the petite woman as a pushover or as an object of desire. This was not exactly the image that she wanted transmitted to the rest of Japan.

Despite Kotoko's protests, she was forcefully reminded that the decision had been made by the higher-ups so she had no opportunity to change it. "You should be honored that so many want to study your methods and techniques."

She argued, "Well, If I'm going to have my steps dogged by a bunch of newbies, why not schedule them all at once, instead of one at a damn time and spoiling the rest of my life?!"

"Language, Aihara-san," Matasuura reminded her. "It is the desire of the hospital planners that we share our knowledge with the most reliable applicants. Since they need time to investigate and evaluate them, they have decided to space out the sessions."

"In other words, dole out the information a dribble at a time?" Kotoko asked sarcastically. She had mastered the Irie eyebrow several years earlier and used it when the occasion required it. This one, she felt, met the proper criteria.

"That's not the way it will be described to the public," the supervisor demurred.

"Which means, that's what it means," Kotoko muttered as she saved her incomplete notes about Mido on the computer, deciding to come back to them later.

Matasuura handed Kotoko a folder with several sheets stapled inside. "This is the dossier of your first student. Please review his background and at least memorize his name by the time he arrives."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." She took it and flipped it open. "Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. Well, crap."

* * *

"I hate bureaucrats!" Kotoko hollered as she entered the small house that she and Naoki shared.

He emerged from the kitchen, drying his hands. "What have they done now?"

"Just decided to make my life miserable for the next few months," she grumbled.

He caught her around the waist and pulled her close. "I hadn't heard that they were shipping one of us away and separating us," he said before kissing her.

She patted his cheek as they separated. "Pretty cocky, aren't you?"

"About how you feel about me, yeah." He grinned. Even with his crazy fluctuating schedule separating them, it was better than when she was on the road with the team.

"Well, you're right on that, but wrong on what's pissed me off." She pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and took a swig. "They're making me teach visiting nurses my super-power techniques. Those, of course," she collapsed on the couch, "are mainly stubbornness and meanness."

"At which you are so eminently successful." He set a bowl of noodles and beef in front of her. "Eat," he gestured, "you usually feel better with some food in you."

She made a kissy-face at him. "You know me so well." As she brought it to her mouth, she asked, "How about you?"

"Already ate." He ran a hand through his hair. "Only a few more days and I'm off the night shift for awhile."

She looked at the clock. "Rats! When are you leaving today?"

"Pretty soon, I'm afraid. I thought I'd get there a little early to review some patient records before evening rounds. Eat quickly and I'll wash the dish—"

Kotoko dove over and caught him tight as she kissed him passionately. "Come on! I've spent three weeks sleeping alone. You only need a couple minutes to speed-read and use your idiot memory for that."

"Well," he answered, getting into the spirit of the matter, "you're right, although I do have to remind you that it's 'eidetic'. Hey!" he said as they crashed to the floor, "What's the hurry?"

"I'm making up for lost time."

* * *

A half hour later Kotoko finished slurping the last of the by-now room temperature noodles. As Naoki came out of the bedroom, having had to replace his shirt due to missing buttons, he asked, "So when does your training torture begin?"

She gulped the last of the broth then padded to the kitchen with the bowl. "Next month, right after Golden Week. But the kicker is that the first one is from a very familiar college. Tonan University!"

"Really? Did you recognize the name?"

"No, and I really didn't notice when he graduated high school. His name's Keiga, Keito, something like that, with two K's."

He shook his head. "Doesn't ring a bell with me. He could have come from anywhere."

"Well, all I know is that he's going to be _here_ the next few months, making my life a living hell."

"Now, Kotoko, don't exaggerate." Naoki pulled her to him and fastened the remaining buttons on his shirt that she was wearing, then tugged on her shoulder-length hair. "How long are you going to let it grow this time before cutting it off?"

She shrugged. "Who knows? Until it starts irritating me keeping up with it long."

"Well, I could help with that. I still remember your high school style pattern."

She laughed merrily. "Good times! I might take you up on that, if your schedule can settle down."

"Speaking of which," he leaned down and kissed her farewell, "I've definitely got to go now. Make sure you put more clothes on in case someone drops by, like your boneheaded soccer friend."

"Okay." She tugged him back down for one last kiss.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," he promised. "Dream of me."

She closed the door behind him. "Well, at least he distracted me from my horrible day. Who knows," she said aloud as she picked up the remaining clothes thrown all over the living room, "it might not be as bad as all that."


	2. Chapter 2

Kotoko's old friend Shitara accompanied Mido to his next session. "Hey, Shit-kun," she greeted him, "are you here for some 'torture' as well?" The other player ducked his head, shame-faced at the reminder of his earlier behavior.

"Nah, I had some free time and thought I'd tag along, maybe shoot the breeze with you." He gave her a cocky grin.

"Shoot the bull, you mean," she countered. "Okay, then," she instructed the injured player, "begin the stretching routine. Slowly, remember. You're not chasing the ball downfield yet, and you won't if you pull a muscle rushing things."

"She's a stickler and a maniac, but do as she says and you'll be fit as a fiddle in no time," Shitara assured his teammate.

Kotoko turned her head at the sound of whispering near the door. She raised an eyebrow. "Right on schedule," she muttered.

"What?" Shitara noticed a group of women and instinctively sucked in his nonexistent gut and smoothed his hair. "They must have heard I was here today. I guess I'll go make their day."

She grabbed hold of his arm. "Egotistical much?" She gave him an evil smile. "They're here to look _me_ over."

"You?" He goggled. "You mean they're all—"

"Get your mind off those porn magazines you're so fond of. No," she corrected Mido's position absently, "it's the new crop of student nurses. It usually takes about this long each semester for them to discover that their idol has a girlfriend. They're checking me out to see if I'm 'worthy' of Naoki."

Mido paused his movements while Shitara stared at her with fascinated eyes. "And what do they usually decide?"

"That I'm _not_ , which causes them to make a play for him. Which he either ignores or repulses, depending upon how blatant it is. A day or so after that, I am entreated to give him up since I'm not—check as many boxes as you like—'feminine enough', 'pretty enough', 'smart enough', or 'all of the above'."

"Wow," Mido declared in awe. "They have bigger balls than I do."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "I'm not interested in a visual comparison, if that's what you're offering. Since I lost count, you can start over again at one."

"Man!" he complained loudly.

"So, would you like me to go over and see how many I can distract from pursuit of your beloved Dr. Irie?" Shitara sent an evaluative gaze to the group by the door.

Kotoko's eyes narrowed. "You seldom do anything without expecting something in return. So name your price up front."

"Well, now, that's actually the reason I came today. I have a party I'd like you to attend. I'm sponsoring a gathering of the Shinshuu gang here in Kobe, paying for hotels and transportation."

"That's great, Shit-kun!" She smacked his bicep lightly in congratulation, so that he only winced slightly. "You can be a good guy after all. But what about Oh-kun and Kida-kun? I lost track of them way back in high school."

"Yeah, me too." He twirled an imaginary mustache. "They can run but they can't hide." At her quizzical look, he added with a smirk, "Private investigator. I might as well have fun with the bundles of money that I'm making."

"So," she made a note on her clipboard, "seeing that you're paying for everyone else, does that mean my rent next month is covered?"

"What?!" His mouth gaped.

She grinned at him. "Just kidding. Especially since, sports celebrity though you may be, I don't think you're going to make any headway with _that_ crew." She pointed at the doorway with her pen. "You may be pretty to look at, but they value brains over brawn."

"You hear that?" he said to Mido. "She said I'm pretty."

"Yeah," he grunted, "just don't brag about it in front of Irie."

* * *

Although Shitara decimated one of Kotoko's notepads handing out autographs, she still expressed her doubts of the effectiveness of his efforts.

"Nonsense!" he declared. "They were eating out of my hand!"

"Yeah, right," she snorted. "Let's place a little bet on that."

He was hooked. "What terms?"

"How about a month's supply of hot and cold packs for every one of those nurses who eventually shows up and does the 'Give Him Up!' speech?"

"And if _I_ win?" He was eager to see what she'd offer.

"I won't tell Coach who suggested the semi-nude poses for that magazine article last year."

"What? Now, Ai-kun, that's fighting dirty!"

She leered at him. "That's what I'm famous for."

"So does that mean if I lose, you _will_ tell him?" He frowned.

"Oh, Shit-kun," she shook her head in resignation, "you're trying to think again, aren't you?"

When his teammate began cat-calling Shitara for the insult, she admonished them both. "Behave." She turned her focus to Mido. "Okay, now we're moving to the weights. Thank goodness your idiot pal joined you. Today you shouldn't scream so loud, or you'll risk him telling the whole team how fragile your masculinity is."

* * *

A few days later Kotoko came home to find that Naoki had hung the punch bag from the ceiling hook in the living room. "Uh-oh," she greeted him. "What's happened that I'm going to need that?" During her stint with the team, one of the players who had tried mixed martial arts as a teenager got her hooked on boxing as a way to relieve tension and frustrations.

Naoki brought out the tape for her hands. "Mother called."

"What now?" She held still as he wrapped her hands and then flexed her fingers.

"She wants us to visit during Golden Week."

"Jeez, how about giving us a little notice?" Kotoko ran over the schedule in her mind. "It's not as if we're office workers. I might be able to get two, maybe three, days clear that week, but that's about it."

"Same with me." He sighed. "Apparently the week over New Year's wasn't enough for her."

"It was hard enough to get _that_ much time off. Why does she always make such a big fuss about us not making it for Christmas, anyway?" Kotoko asked, starting off with a light punch. "That's not even our religion."

"It's the whole 'Christmas Eve is for lovers' deal. Not that we can get too 'loverly' in that house with her stalking our every move," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Crap." She hit the ball harder. "Do you think she has more wedding plans to bore me with?"

"Probably both of us will have to pay attention to them this time. She's starting to sound desperate."

"Well, that's because she never wants to listen to _our_ ideas," she argued as she pounded the ball.

"When has she ever?" He shook his head ruefully then froze, eyes unfocused in thought. "I believe I have a plan," he said slowly, "but it might have to wait until after this visit."

"Great," she groaned, "but at least you'll have to suffer with me while I look at poufy dresses for hours on end."

Naoki smirked. "Luckily, I won't be the one wearing them this time!"

She snickered at the reference to his early childhood. "Well, as long as the visit doesn't interfere with Shit-kun's party, I guess I can stand it." Both hands were hitting the ball in a rapid pattern by now. "Do you want me to see about rail tickets?"

"No. I'll schedule them for us once you let me know your best dates."

"Maybe it will be right after Shit-kun's party and we'll be so hungover that we won't care what she shows us," she offered.

"No," Naoki disagreed, "there's not enough alcohol in the world to deaden Mother's lectures."

* * *

A last-minute surgical emergency caused the two to be the last to arrive at the reunion, which was in full swing with drinks flowing freely. Naoki looked around the motley crew in Shitara's townhouse. "Is anyone missing?" he asked Kotoko after the rushed introductions.

She helped herself to a cheese-stuffed pepper. "Just Na-kun, the short one that turned into the school prince. Shit-kun says he's on tour or something. I wonder if he's on a sports team also?"

"Maybe in a band?" Naoki shrugged. "Well, at least it was nice of him to gather them all together," he grinned, "so I can meet your early mentors."

"Mentors, schmentors," Tsushima scoffed. "Do you really think this girl would follow anyone's lead?"

Naoki recognized him as the chef from Hokkaido. "I can bear personal witness to the contrary."

"But Kazuma-kun," his wife leaned over, "you told me that Ai-kun was virtually unrecognizable as a female. Were you just trying to keep me from getting jealous?"

Kotoko rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, actually, I may have changed a little after Otosan and I moved in with the Iries."

"Mom didn't manage to stifle you too much," Naoki observed. "You can still hold your own against just about anyone."

"Tell me about it!" Shitara ran a finger over the almost invisible scar on his cheekbone.

Most of the company began hooting at him. "You never could beat Ai-kun in a fair fight!"

"Fair?" Kotoko asked? "Where's the fun in that?"

"Is that why you got into physical therapy, Ai-kun?" Kunikida, now an office worker, leaned forward to ask. "So that you could fix up the body parts that you break?"

"Yeah," Ohara laughed, "plus got yourself hooked up with a doctor, to boot, for the more serious injuries!"

"But knowing you as I did, I never thought you'd have anything in common with a genius!" Naoki looked over at Kunikida. He winked. "I recall your name when my teachers were scolding us for our poor test scores in high school."

Naoki rolled his eyes. "I hope I didn't inadvertently cause you too much trouble."

"See, Ai-kun?" Shitara had been partaking well of the liquor that he had provided. "That's why you'n Irie here ain't a good match!" He weaved across the room and flung his arm out. "These guys agree, so why'd'ja turn me down?"

Kotoko snorted. "Maybe because you're a revolting tomcat."

"Ha!" Shitara collapsed into a too-small space next to Kotoko, forcing Ohara off the couch. "But I would've changed my ways if you'd've had me, right, darlin'?" he crooned as he put his arm around Kotoko's shoulders.

Naoki gave him his "public" smile. "Please back off. Now."

"Wow." Ohara, now standing, observed, "so polite. Do you hit as politely as you speak? Because if he did that to my wife…"

"It won't be necessary for me to resort to violence," Naoki informed him shortly.

"Huh?"

He gestured with his thumb towards Kotoko, who was peeling Shitara off, none too gently. "She takes care of him quite handily." He sighed. "That was a warning to _him_ , hoping to save myself some effort. I end up having to patch him up whenever he crosses the line. How many times has it been?"

"Too damn many," Kotoko gritted out as she deposited Shitara on the floor. She addressed him as she nudged him with her foot. "Thank goodness we're at your place so you won't be driving. My god, haven't you learned yet that you can't handle liquor?"

Naoki nodded to the group. "Not all of his bruises are from soccer field injuries."


	3. Chapter 3

The brief visit in Tokyo went about as well as could be expected.

"Dang, Obasama," Kotoko tempered her curses, "how can you think it would be a good idea for me to wear this dress? It's made for someone at least—" she pulled the article closer "—two meters tall! How high would the heels have to be?"

"I declare, you are so out-of-practice," Mrs. Irie fussed. "These past few years of wearing athletic shoes—you have lost any feminine advantage that I attempted to give you when you lived with us!"

"But at least I tried," she reminded her. "It's just that I'm constantly moving, bending, walking, running, whatever on the job. I can't be dressed like a fussy little doll doing all that."

"Onii-chan!" Naoki flinched at the shrill call. "You need to take Kotoko to some cultural events so that she can get re-accustomed to fine attire."

"To what purpose, Ma?" he asked. "We manage the hospital parties just fine, and _she's_ such a big celebrity there, she could probably show up in her high school gym uniform. As for plays and symphonies," he laughed, "even if we could adjust our schedules, we'd probably both fall asleep in the middle."

Kotoko snorted. "If it's the symphony, I wouldn't even last until the middle."

"Then how in the world do you think you will be able to handle twelve straight hours on your wedding day in lovely designer clothes?" she wailed.

"Twelve fu—frickin' hours?" Kotoko asked. "How did you come up with that amount of time?"

Mrs. Irie began counting on her fingers, "There's three hours with the bridesmaids and the mother," she simpered, "the morning of the big day, getting ready. Then the actual ceremony, which shouldn't take longer than an hour. Formal posed photography, maybe only an hour and a half, although I'll have to vet the photographers carefully ahead of time—I have extremely strict standards, you know. Then the banquet and cake cutting—that's another three hours—"

"How much is she planning to spend?" Kotoko hissed at Naoki.

"I don't know. Plus," he cut his eyes at Yuuki, who was soaking all this in, "I don't think she's discussed it with Dad yet. I think he's going to get an earful from his heir later on."

"We will have several wardrobe changes for you, plus the ballroom dancing—hmm," she mused, "maybe twelve hours is too short of an estimate."

"Gah!" Kotoko pantomimed a faint and flung herself back into the easy chair.

Thus thrust into the unwelcome and most likely unsuccessful role of restorer of sanity, Naoki spoke, "Mother, I don't believe you understand the amount of time all that would involve. Not just for the actual event," he hastened to forestall her, "but in the planning. Neither Kotoko nor I have the type of schedule that would allow for the, uh, menu selection, dress shopping," Kotoko now appeared to be conscious and was nodding along vigorously in agreement, "venue choices—plus the fact that we are half the island away. The whole plan is simply unfeasible."

His mother glared at him. "What is 'simply unfeasible' is the two of you continuing to live together in an undefined relationship. How am I supposed to brag to my friends about my handsome son and lovely daughter-in-law? Plus—"

"Here it comes," muttered Kotoko.

"—what about my grandchildren?!"

* * *

"Finally!" Kotoko took a deep breath and flung out her arms. "Freedom! Out of her reach!"

Naoki laughed. The reaction was a little over the top, but even he felt relief once they were back in what was now their home city. "I know," he agreed, "a little of Mom is more than enough."

"It's just that she still sees us as children," she said, "and won't accept that we make our own decisions about how we live our lives."

Naoki placed an arm across her shoulders. "Especially the big ones. Right?"

Their eyes met and they laughed together as they approached a large screen that was blaring high-pitched screams. A mass of females were being held back from a beleaguered announcer clutching a microphone. "Fans of pop music have been in a frenzy ever since Resplendent Olympus has had to cancel the rest of their tour that had only kicked off this week." A video of a fireworks-lighted stage and gyrating performers whose music was almost drowned out by more loud screams was played. The video halted, then zoomed in and slo-moed one of the performers as he leaped off a platform and landed poorly. The injured blond ended up writhing on stage before being surrounded by security guards and hidden from view. "Lead singer Phoebus was rushed to an unknown medical facility. The group's spokesperson has been extremely tight-lipped about both his condition and whereabouts…"

"Damn!" Kotoko said. "That was a bad fall."

"If he didn't break something, he separated some tendons," Naoki hypothesized.

"Haven't you assisted on a surgery like that?" Kotoko asked as they resumed walking.

"Several times," he answered. "Dr. Kamiya said that I should be ready to be primary soon."

"Heh," she laughed, "too bad you weren't in the audience then."

"As if I'd be at a place like that. I don't call _that_ 'music'!"

"Me either! I think I'd even prefer the symphony. At least you can sleep there."

* * *

"Aihara-san! Irie-sensei!" Matasuura had apparently been watching for their approach to the hospital and snagged them the minute they arrived. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of their clasped hands, an unexpected and unusual public show of affection between the two at work. "I need to see you both! Now!"

Kotoko and Naoki looked at each other. "I should let the attending doctor know that I am—" Naoki began.

"No, no! She is fully aware. This is a special event, er, emergency!" She was fanning herself with a folder and appeared flushed. "Although I don't know why you had to be late on today of all days!"

"It was on the schedule," Kotoko pointed out as they walked to the small conference room that Matasuura indicated. She plopped herself in one of the chairs and asked bluntly, "Okay, what gives?"

The supervisor looked around carefully and closed all the blinds before replying. "We are having a celebrity patient arrive tonight!" she burst out.

"So? We deal with those all the time."

"No, Aihara, you don't understand. We're talking Superstar!" She spread her arms wide.

"Michael Jordan? Tony Romo?"

Her hands waved. "Forget sports for a moment." She paused for effect. "We're getting Phoebus!"

Kotoko pressed two fingers to her forehead. "Where have I heard that name before?"

"The J-pop entertainer who landed spectacularly wrong on stage?" Naoki asked, sitting up straighter.

"Yes, that's him!" Matasuura laughed self-consciously. "I know I'm over ten years older than him, but when he winks at the camera," she shivered, eyes closed, "I get all giddy inside."

"Has his surgery been done yet?"

"No, Sensei, they have been keeping the ankle stable while it was evaluated. He will undergo surgery here. Oh, what an honor it is to be chosen worthy to care for his injured body!"

Kotoko stifled her gag reflex and asked, "And will the rehabilitation be done here as well?"

"Yes, yes! Our facilities may have been the turning point in the decision-making process. You must be aware of how closely his healing progress will be watched in the coming months."

"Great." Kotoko slumped back. "It's not enough that I'm going to have a trainee on my heels, but I've got to ward off the press too?"

"The hospital's state-of-the-art security should take care of most of those types of problems." The supervisor appeared smug.

"You said 'most', not 'all'," Kotoko reminded her. "That's not a guarantee in my book."

"What about star-struck hospital personnel?" Naoki pointed out, "I've seen this group's posters at more than one workstation."

"Oh, ah, yes. That will be a different matter." Matasuura sat up straighter. "However, you two have responded as the hospital board predicted. That is why," she gave them a wide grin, "you will be responsible for getting him safely and quietly in the building and being his primary caregivers."

"How we responded…?" Kotoko looked at Naoki in puzzlement, who shrugged.

"Dr. Irie is well known to be calm and collected no matter who he attends to, and since you have dealt with various other celebrities as well as, uh, being romantically 'taken', you are the best team for the job."

"But I'm not really a nurse," Kotoko protested. "Yeah, I can give a shot or IV in an emergency, but that's nowhere near what he needs to recuperate from surgery."

"And that's why it was highly timely that your intern is showing up today. At least for the first day or so, until you can select the least susceptible nurses to tend to him, he will also be assigned to him. He is a fully-fledged nurse, and being male means that he should not only not fall in love with Phoebus," she sighed, "but provide a little extra muscle in case you need to expel unwanted visitors."

Naoki leaned over. "She is aware that some men like other men, isn't she?"

Kotoko shot him a look then turned back to the supervisor. "So is he going to be in our VIP quarters?"

"Yes. His manager has stressed the importance of anonymity and shelter from the paparazzi."

"Did I call it or what?" Kotoko muttered.

"So," she concluded with a flourish, handing Naoki a folder, "here are his vitals as of last night. He will arrive on the helicopter pad this afternoon. You two, plus your new assistant, will meet him and quickly transport him to his room. HIs manager will handle all the admission needs."

"Feebis. What kind of name is that?" Kotoko asked after she fluttered out.

"It's 'Phoebus'," Naoki informed her, quickly scanning the medical information. "Another name for Apollo. Appropriate for the group's name, Resplendent Olympus. I believe all the members have mythological stage names."

"Yes, but they're Japanese," she complained. "Why can't they use Japanese mythology instead of Greek?"

He shrugged then stood up with her. "Well, I'll meet you right before our pick-up time. I don't think this assignment means I can shirk my other duties, although," he grinned, "maybe it means that I can do part of the surgery."

Kotoko gave him a fist. "Fighting!"


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm sorry that you were thrust into this with no warning, Kamogari-san," Kotoko apologized to her trainee as he stood with her and Naoki on the hospital roof. She shielded her eyes with a hand. "Do you see it yet?"

"No." Naoki was also scanning the skies. "They said that they didn't want publicity, but I highly doubt they meant it." He pulled out his phone and tapped it a few times. "Here," he held it over, "a big media circus in Tokyo. By the time stamp of the photos and articles, they're a few minutes late."

"I think I see the copter now, Irie-sensei." The nurse pointed toward the horizon.

"All right then." Kotoko turned and made sure that the roof door behind them was still uninhabited by witnesses. "I'll take care of the transfer paperwork while Dr. Irie examines him briefly. You can help stabilize and transport him to the chair. With any luck we'll be downstairs faster than a hot knife through butter."

Naoki grinned down at her. "You mentioned food. By any chance, are you hungry, Kotoko?"

Keita, who had arrived only a few hours earlier and so far had not mingled much with the rest of the hospital staff, raised an eyebrow at the familiarity.

She scowled. "All this celebrity preparation and orientation crap—not your fault, Kamogari-san—and I skipped lunch. I only had a few energy bars left in the back of my desk drawer."

"Well, maybe this will be over with soon." He had to raise his voice as the helicopter hovered before landing.

Hair whipping across her face, Kotoko received and signed for the packet from the attending nurse, who hopped out of the copter first. He leaned over and warned, "Brace yourself."

"What?" Kotoko managed before she was blinded by a flash of light. "Dammit! I thought they didn't want publicity," she said, scowling at the photographer, "and here they bring it along!"

"No, no!" A tiny woman, on heels even ridiculously higher than the ones Mrs. Irie had tried to push on Kotoko, tumbled out and scurried over. "He is the group's official photographer. He will chronicle the transfer for the millions of Resplendent Olympus's fans. They cannot be too upset at being excluded from the actual event as long as it is documented and shared with his beloved followers."

"Yeah, well, make sure he stays out of the doctor's way," Kotoko warned. "He has a nasty temper when riled."

"Pot, meet kettle." Naoki was nearer than she thought. He turned his icy attention to the camera-wielding man. "I hope the patient is not jarred by your jumping around for—what do you call it?—action shots. Then you could 'document' your own career going down the toilet."

"And you are?" The manager shoved forward aggressively.

"I am the surgeon who would like to mend his _current_ injury, not one exacerbated by this hyperactive monkey."

"Oh, okay," the woman got a good view of Naoki's face, "Sakurauchi, back off a meter or two. Make sure you get the doctor in the shot as well. He's quite photogenic, isn't he?" she hissed, none too quietly.

"Stalker magnet," Kotoko said sotto voce, receiving a glare from Naoki in return.

Finally the patient was eased into the wheelchair that Keita was steadying. All Kotoko could see was a mop of improbably blond curls partially covered by a large billed cap studded with rhinestones. A colorfully embroidered cape acted as a blanket over most of his body, with an elaborately shielded and booted foot propped straight out.

"Now wave to your fans, Phoebus," the manager ordered. She muttered to the photographer, "That male nurse is a bit of eye candy, too. The teeny-boppers are going to go crazy!"

A pale hand emerged from the cape and the cap was removed with a flourish and held up in a dramatic pose. Only a few shutter clicks were heard before the singer smiled and winked before calling out, "So, what do you think of me now, Ai-kun?"

Everyone's eyes followed his gaze to the thunderstruck Kotoko. "Oh, shit," she said.

"Not again," agreed Naoki.

* * *

"So this is the school prince from your juvenile gang," Naoki commented once everyone was in the VIP suite of the rehab wing.

Kotoko scowled at the manager who had just informed the photographer to memorialize the reunion between the old friends, "but be sure to keep the two hunks in the frame as well."

"Na-kun, can you rein in the craziness?" she asked the beaming blond.

"Why? Honda-chan's idea will be publicity gold," he riposted. "Reunited with my childhood sweetheart who will now lovingly nurse me back into performance condition."

"Well, don't expect to get back on stage any time soon—wait, what did you say? 'Sweetheart'? 'Lovingly'?" Kotoko touched his face and motioned to Keita who brought over a forehead thermometer. "Are you feverish or did you take some really strong medicine? Maybe, hallucino-whatis?"

"Hallucinogenics," Naoki corrected, eyes focused on the star.

"Yes, yes," Honda, the manager, broke in. "Featuring it this way, every girl in the country would sell her right arm to be in your position."

"That would made their job more difficult," Kotoko responded prosaically, "but how did you come up with such an outlandish story? No one's going to believe it."

"And why not?" Phoebus reached out and grasped her hand, tugging her off-balance enough that she almost fell in bed with him. "We were the ones closest to each other back then, right?"

"Yes, we were," Kotoko admitted, recalling to herself, _but that's because I usually had to protect him, since he was even smaller than me._ She backed away from her friend and angled a glance at the manager. _I bet she wouldn't like_ that _little nugget to reach the press!_

He continued on, as if rehearsed (as it well might have been), "Shit-kun praised your abilities to the skies when we got together a couple years ago. He also told me that you turned him down, so I figured he finally made his move."

"His what?" Kotoko opened her eyes wide and Naoki's narrowed.

"Don't you know that he had his eye on you way back then? He was so jealous of us being such good friends that a lot of his rogue kicks were deliberate." Kotoko ran a finger over the scar under her chin. "I thought this would be a great way to shove it in his face that I'm finally better than him."

"Um, I think he forgot to mention that the reason I wasn't interested in him is because I have—"

Before she could elaborate, Honda pushed the photographer nearer for an extreme close-up of their two faces. "Not to worry, Aihara-san," she said. "The relationship will be totally fictional. According to their contract, our Olympians are not allowed to date anyone exclusively. The story will be that you realize your feelings a decade and a half too late. The fans will empathize with your heartbreak when you come to the conclusion that you must set him free and share your beloved with the rest of the world." Her arm swung wide dramatically as she ended on a note of pathos.

Kotoko turned to Naoki. "Can you forget what I said earlier about being hungry? My stomach suddenly turned over."

Keita gave up his unsuccessful quest of Phoebus's forehead to take his temperature. "Would you like me to get you an antacid, Aihara-san?"

Kotoko and Naoki stared at him with equally blank looks. She shook her head and gave him a half smile. "Thank you, Kamogari-san, but it won't be necessary."

He nodded. "Just let me know if you change your mind. I'm here to assist you in any way possible."

 _No,_ Naoki thought to himself, _it's more likely that_ this _one is going to be the real problem._


	5. Chapter 5

Keita stood at the door of Kotoko's office. She waved him in immediately. "I'm so sorry to give you a 24-hour shift your first day here, Kamogari-san," she apologized. "Take the rest of the day off and try to catch up on your sleep."

"That won't be necessary, Aihara-san." He sat down in a visitor's chair. "Once the manager decided that enough photographs had been taken of him in the bed, she and the photographer left. Phoebus went to sleep right after, and I managed to doze most of the night."

"Well, I have a few nurses that I'm going to talk to about taking his shifts, since you came here to concentrate on what we do in the big room." She glanced up at the clock. "As he'll be in surgery for the next couple of hours and I have no other appointments, I thought I could take care of that now. Did you want to locate your room and unpack?"

"I can do that any time, Aihara-san. I travel light," he assured her. "But is there any possibility of watching the surgery? It helps me if I can actually see what has been repaired on the inside."

"Better you than me!" Kotoko grinned at him, then pulled out his folder and handed him a badge. "This is an RFID card that will open most doors, and your birthdate is your PIN to get you into even more secure locations."

"Really?" His eyes opened wide. "But I just got here yesterday. To trust me so much—"

She waved her hand. "You have no idea how closely you were scrutinized. I'll walk you to the operating theatre on my way to picking up my nurses."

As she showed him how to scan his card, Keita turned and asked, "You're not interested in watching surgeries?"

She laughed shortly. "It's more like the doctors and nurses aren't interested in reviving me from one of my faints again. Sometimes my brain just shuts off when I see bones and muscles not covered by a nice layer of fat and skin. My job is to tend them when they're all stitched back together."

"I understand," he said slowly. "One member of my study team back at Tonan is just the opposite. If she had her way, she'd be inside the room, wielding a scalpel herself."

"Takes all kinds," Kotoko agreed. She waved at a friend inside the observation room and shoved Keita in. "Now, don't disgrace the department by acting like me."

"Sure." He turned just before the door closed in his face and nodded at the other observers while locating a seat. Based on quiet conversations and his own eyes, he identified the primary surgeon as the doctor from the day before.

"If Irie wasn't so brilliant, I'd suspect that Aihara pulled strings to get him this surgery."

Keita frowned at that statement, but the speaker's companion quickly corrected him. "Come on. Shining star or not, she has no control on the surgical assignments."

"Still, I bet he's going to make sure he does his very best, not just for the patient but so Aihara has the best product to work with."

"Not that she really needs it. That young lady could make a hopeless case win 'Dancing with the Stars' after just a few months of training."

It was reassuring to hear that the local medical personnel thought so highly of Kotoko, especially considering the competitiveness and backbiting that abounded in some hospitals. _But,_ Keita wondered, _what does that remark about Dr. Irie mean?_

* * *

When Keita returned from the surgery, Kotoko introduced him to one of Phoebus's rotating nurses, informing him that the other was already in recovery with the drowsy star. "I have instructed Kurosawa-san to give you a quick tour of the hospital proper and show you where you'll bunk before she heads off for a nap. She will do the night shift this evening."

Keita nodded and picked up his bag from the corner of her office. "Do you have a staff dormitory that you're putting me in?

She snorted. "Are you kidding? You're staying in one of the guest rooms that visiting specialists use when they're called to consult. Pretty posh quarters, even if I have to say so myself."

"Wow. Sounds great. So, when should I report tomorrow?"

"Oh, we'll be here around eight to check on the klutz," she said absently.

Keita's eyebrows rose at the undignified description of the patient. Recalling that overheard conversation, he was also interested in who "we" consisted of.

* * *

Dr. Irie was accompanied by a senior physician and the other private nurse. The manager and photographer made another appearance but were quickly ejected by the combined forces of the medical personnel. Kotoko was not amused to be left with their complaints of high-handedness.

"I am the manager of Resplendent Olympus and, as such, should have constant access to my clients!"

"I doubt that your idol's fans would appreciate seeing bruises and staples on his skin," she tried to reason with her. "You can spiff him up and show him off after the post-surgical examination."

"Why! I'll have you know—" she pointed a finger in Kotoko's face so close that her eyes crossed.

In less than a second the hand was removed and the finger bent backwards. Honda gasped.

"And I'll have _you_ know," Kotoko ground out, "that in this hospital and rehab center, your ideas and plans don't mean squat. You chose us for our superior surgeons and rehabilitation techniques, as well as the hospital's excellent security. Now, where are you going to hide him and heal him if your precious darling is ordered to decamp due to interference from non-medical busybodies?"

"Uh, Aihara-san," Keita tried to interrupt. When Kotoko spun his direction, her eyes were still spitting sparks. He pointed towards the photographer, who was clicking away at the argument.

"You!" She advanced on him and snatched the camera from him.

"Now, miss, I'll sue if you break that!" Sakurauchi protested. "That's a ¥120000 piece of equipment!"

"Oh, don't get your panties in a wad," she snarled at him. "I'm very familiar with this model." Mrs. Irie's hobby came in handy sometimes. She removed the card, handed the camera back and inserted the card into a slot on the side of her computer. After a few clicks she ejected it and emerged from the office, tossing it over as she continued her scold. "If you two," she also looked at the manager, "can't control yourselves with your need for publicity, you will no longer be admitted to this facility. The only one that camera should focus on is the crazy-haired dancer who I grew up with. If you can't deal with that, then start packing him up."

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned her head to see Naoki at her side. "Ah, Kotoko, what's going on?" he whispered.

She looked around. The people she had left in the patient's room had all made their way down the hall and were on the edge of the rehab room, including the grinning patient, sitting in a wheelchair in front of his shift nurse. She gritted her teeth and gave her professional smile. "We were establishing lines of authority. Correct, Honda-san?" She stared steadily at the manager.

Luckily Honda's family had raised dogs, and she recognized the voice of the alpha. "Yes, Aihara-san." She bowed. "Phoebus's healing is in your hands. However, our agreement with the hospital allows for publicity access during the treatment."

"Again," Kotoko's smile widened, "I doubt his fans would like images more likely to be seen on the Surgery Channel. Based on my research, they would prefer revealing attire while exercising with sweaty skin. _That_ we will be taking care of in here." She waved her arm to indicate the airy room with equipment and mirrors.

"Ah, certainly." She squinted at Kotoko. "That does sound more entertaining. Are you sure you're not a fan?"

"Positive." She nodded.

"Ai-kun, you wound me!" Phoebus wailed.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she riposted. "You have no idea how much pain you're going to be in before I'm done with you."

Keita tugged on her sleeve. "Aihara-san," he whispered, "is it wise scare the patient like that?"

She turned to him. "If he wanted to take it easy, he wouldn't have come to me. Right, Na-kun?" At his nod she turned to the manager. "I'll send you a list of workout times. Give us a few days to get in a routine so the photographer won't distract him too much."

"Oh, all of Resplendent Olympus are well-accustomed to cameras," she protested.

"Yes, for _posing_ ," Kotoko said, "but he is going to be working on something different the next few months. If I can't get him started so that he can concentrate properly, I don't know if I can guarantee a full recovery in the amount of time that you want."

"Oh, all right!" She sniffed. "Here are my numbers." Kotoko accepted the card thrust at her, and Honda and the photographer marched out of the facility.

"And if those pictures I deleted were automatically uploaded to web storage, you'd better make sure they never see the light of day!" Kotoko called after them.

Naoki and the other physician made a few more notes then left shortly after. Phoebus stretched his arms to the sky and gave Kotoko and Keita a sultry grin. "So, finally, I'm all yours!"

"Not quite," she corrected him, nodding at the nurse. "I'll get the details later, but did the doctors give any indication as to when he'll be mobile?"

"They say he can have a weight-bearing boot in a week or so, if all goes well."

"So, a week, eh?" He grinned. "With nothing to do I'll have plenty of time to catch up with old friends as well as make new ones." He turned to Keita. "How long have you been working for this slavedriver?"

Before he could answer, Kotoko gave an evil laugh. "What do you mean, 'nothing to do'?"


	6. Chapter 6

There were no last-minute emergencies on the medical side of the building, so Kotoko and Naoki enjoyed their walk home that evening in each other's company.

"How did your friend respond to the projected training routine?" he asked.

"Oh, he cried like a baby," Kotoko recalled in satisfaction.

* * *

"What do you mean, Ai-kun?" Phoebus asked, puzzled. "If I can't put any weight on the leg, how am I going to be able to work out?"

"Are your only muscles in your leg?" she countered.

"Uh…" He blinked at her. Keita also looked at her inquiringly, then nodded as light dawned.

"You and your musician friends do all sorts of acrobatics as part of your dance routines," she continued lecturing him, " _which_ requires a totally fit body. If the uninjured parts are neglected now, your overall recovery time will be lengthened before you can get back to some of your moves."

"My moves?" He winked suggestively at her and Keita. "Are you finally admitting that you're a fan now that Honda-chan isn't around?"

"Thptpth!" Kotoko expressed her thoughts on that conclusion. "I did research, you baka! Videos and promos and YouTube—everywhere. Fan-made and professional, since that can give me different angles. See," she pulled out her phone, "here you are doing handstands, and in this song you did a set of cartwheels. I taught you how to do that," she speared him with a glare, "but you do them better than me."

"I can do lots of things better than you," he smirked, glancing at Keita, who had leaned over his shoulder to look at the screen as well. "Don't you agree, Kamogari-san?"

"Um," Keita stammered, "I don't really know Aihara-san that well…"

"Hey, we're all pals here, aren't we?" Ignoring Kotoko's snort, he brazened on, "You can call me Naga-san and I'll call you Kamo-san. How about that?"

"Your name will be Mud-san if you corrupt my intern." Kotoko smacked him on the head with her fist.

"Ow!" He pouted dramatically. "And to think that I was going to acknowledge your femininity by calling you Ai- _chan_!"

"I'm quite comfortable in my own sexuality, you pervert," she insulted him absently. "You can continue male bonding some other time. In the meanwhile, prepare yourself; tomorrow we'll do some heavy arm work as well as core strengthening."

"What?" He flexed his arms proudly. "Girls scream over these muscles!"

"And by the time I finish with you, you should be able to properly do that headstand to double flip that busted this." He winced when she kicked the side of the chair. "If you had more upper-body strength, you could have pushed yourself off the springboard a little higher and been able to handle the extra rotation. Also, you've been lucky; I saw you turned your ankles a few times with sloppy recoveries after almost missing the crash mat."

"You will protect me from this maniac, won't you?" He grabbed Keita's forearm and gave him the puppy dog eyes that had sold half a million posters.

"A-actually, I think I'm supposed to be helping her," the nurse responded, blushing.

"Then how about you, darlin'?" He twisted his neck and gave a winning grin to his attendant nurse.

She shook her head indulgently. "As much as my daughter would love to have your autograph, I value my job." She jerked a shoulder at Kotoko. "That one's a terror, but she does get the job done."

"Thanks, Takami-san," Kotoko nodded at her, "and I'll make sure your daughter doesn't lose out. As for you," she closed one eye and pointed a finger gun at Phoebus, "we'll be getting down to business tomorrow as soon as I get here." She handed him a laminated card. "Here are the streaming services that come with your room, and if you want to get warmed up, there are a set of dumbbells available on a rolling cart. Enjoy!"

As he was wheeled back to the living area, he could be heard whining, "Celebrities don't get the proper respect here!"

"You have to earn it!" she called in response.

* * *

"Yes, you're going to have your hands full with him," Naoki sympathized.

"Right," she nodded, "even Shit-kun was better than that. If anything, I had to keep _him_ from working too hard too quickly. This one might require a cattle prod." She sighed. "I'll be glad to get home so I can relax and forget all this for a while."

"Yes, it's always good when your home is a haven from work stresses."

Kotoko poked her elbow in his ribs. "I know another way to get rid of stress."

He smiled down at her. "Do you, now?" His tone indicated agreement, but he frowned when her walking slowed and followed the direction of her gaze.

"Naoki, I could have sworn that I latched the gate this morning…"

"Welcome home, children!" The whirlwind known as Irie Noriko opened the front door. "I'm here to take care of you!"

* * *

"What the hell, Mom?" Naoki managed about ten minutes later, after Mrs. Irie had finally come up for air.

Everything had to be discussed: Mr. Irie's latest health report, Mr. Aihara's latest health report, Yuuki's test scores, her brilliant idea to come keep house for them, the trip to Kobe. (Summary: "Good", "Needs to cut back on the sake" ["I _told_ him that at New Year's!"—Kotoko], "Top of the class", "So that you won't be distracted by mundane things", and "Can you believe how crowded it is in the middle of the week?")

"Whoa, back up a little." Naoki inquired, "What do you mean 'distracted by mundane things'? _Life_ is composed of mundane things."

"Right!" Kotoko agreed. She murmured as an aside, "The mundaner the better."

"But this is the wrong time in your life to be tied down by chores such as cooking and cleaning!" Mrs. Irie hastened to correct them. "Both of you," she smiled fondly at each of them in turn, "have demanding careers that take so much energy out of you. Of course you can't spare the time to plan for your own nuptials. That's what I'm here for!"

"Again?"

"Still?" amended Kotoko.

"Just think how easy this will be!" She continued on, ignoring their interruptions, "I will prepare brain-stimulating breakfasts and send you off to work with refreshing snacks and a healthy lunch. Then when you get home, you can relax and enjoy a delicious evening meal before we begin our daily planning session."

"I have a bad feeling about what that 'planning session' will consist of, but first things first," her son broke in. "How did you get in the house?"

Mrs. Irie's eyes drifted to the ceiling. "I _may_ have made a copy of the key when the family vacationed in Kobe last autumn, and we dropped by to see you."

"Great," he muttered. "So, what hotel are you staying at this time?"

"Nonsense! That would be so much trouble, traveling back and forth each day. No, I'm staying right here, with you!"

"Uh, where?" asked Kotoko, gesturing vaguely.

"In your little guest room. Although I must say, that is a most narrow bed. If the room weren't so tiny, I'd insist that we purchase a wider one."

"Ma, that's our study!" Naoki's hands rose to the sides of his head and literally grasped his hair.

"Well, you're no longer in school." She waved a hand in dismissal.

"But we still have publications to read, and—" He broke off and turned to Kotoko. "I give up. You try."

"Obasama," she began, "it's not that we don't appreciate your efforts—"

"We don't," Naoki growled near her ear.

"—but this is a really small house. I'm not sure—"

"I don't know why you two didn't keep the one we rented for you when you both started school here," Mrs. Irie interposed.

"We've told you before, Ma," Naoki said in a weary voice. "This one was closer to Kobe University when I transferred. Kotoko decided that she would bike to class at SuSe since part of her career plan was to be in really good shape."

"Still, that was five, no six years ago…"

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it," Kotoko stated flatly. "We like the area. We know the neighbors. Everything is within walking distance, even the hospital in good weather."

"But what about," she batted her lashes and looked at them coyly, "when a little one comes along?"

"Yuuki-kun?" Kotoko asked. "Is he planning to come to Kobe for college?"

"No, Kotoko-chan!" Mrs. Irie sat up straight in frustration. "I'm talking about my grandchildren! And don't think you fool me with that innocent look! You knew exactly what I—"

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Ma," Naoki said firmly. "If—when—there are…" his eyes slid towards Kotoko "...children, we will make an appropriate plan."

"But that's just it!" Mrs. Irie's hands slapped the easy chair cushion on either side of her legs, raising a small cloud of dust. Kotoko covered her mouth either in embarrassment or hilarity. "You are not planning 'appropriately'. You are not planning _at all_!"

Naoki bent over and rubbed both eyes with his hands. "We're in our _twenties_ , Ma."

"Yes! In your twenties! And no wedding ring in sight!" She glared at Kotoko's left hand, which that young woman immediately tried to hide behind her back.

Naoki pulled it out with a hiss of frustration and held it firmly. "Look, can we not discuss this tonight? Let's get to the dinner meal that you mentioned and see about unpacking you."

"Already done! The unpacking, that is. And dinner will be ready shortly. So, in the interim," she hustled to the table and returned with a bulging notebook, "why don't you have a look at this?"

"Obasama," Kotoko stared at it with wide eyes, "did you print off _all_ of Pinterest?"


	7. Chapter 7

Keita noticed that Kotoko's mood, while not especially cheery first thing the next morning, deteriorated as the day progressed. Of course, the blame for some of that could be laid at the feet of the patient, who began his session accusing Kotoko of ignoring his videogame invitation the night before.

"Some people actually grew up and are acting as adults," she pointed out. "Plus, last night...well, I wouldn't have had time anyway."

Phoebus leered at her in an exaggerated manner. "Details, please!"

"Not on your life!" she retorted, before tugging on one of his multiply-pierced earlobes and asking, "You don't have any of these in weird places that I have to look out for, do you?"

The injured star, seeing that he had a slightly interested audience on a couple of the workout machines, lowered his lids halfway and crooned, "Would you like to check?" When the flat of Kotoko's hand hit his forehead with a smack, he said weakly, "I guess not." He then turned to Keita. "How about you?"

Keita had no time to ask if he meant did _he_ have piercings or if he was interested in checking for Phoebus's before Kotoko twirled the patient around and began snapping instructions at him. He was slightly worried for the singer until he realized that she had him doing nothing more than gentle stretches of extended duration to warm him up. Her tone eased a little when she explained to Keita what she was doing and why, but he could still feel the tension in the room.

During a break, he wheeled Phoebus to a table for water and fruit while Kotoko left the area for a time. "Man!" The musician wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What burr got under her saddle today?"

"I'm not sure," he began. "She seemed totally different the first day…"

"Well, Ai-chan always had a temper, but she never let herself hold onto a grudge. Something must have happened at home with Irie."

"Irie-sensei?" Keita looked at him. "The surgeon?"

"Yeah." He popped a grape in his mouth. "They've been together for several years." He winked. "He's the real reason Shit-kun couldn't get it on with her. Well," he added, shrugging, " it's his own fault. Instead of playing the field so long, he should've tracked her down earlier."

"You mentioned that name the other day." Soon Keita heard all about the little gang of ruffians that had terrorized their neighborhood almost two decades earlier. "So that's why she was Ai- _kun_ , then?"

Phoebus shook his head. "Seriously, she looked just like a boy back then. Man, I'm sorry I missed their reunion a week and a half ago." He glanced down at his foot. "Especially since I got _this_ on the tour that interfered with it." He glanced up. "Uh-oh, the dragon lady returneth!"

Kotoko pushed a hand truck with several boxes on it through the doors. "The biggest package has your name on it, Na-kun," she said, repositioning the bobby pins holding her overgrown bangs back. "Are you _that_ interested in personalizing your room?"

"Ah! My keyboard!" He tried backing the chair out himself, only to run over Keita's foot as he rose to assist him. "Sorry!" He smiled an apology.

"You're a klutz on foot and a klutz on wheels," she complained. "Take advantage of the help while you can. So," she patted the box, "do you actually play this? I thought you were just up on stage, shaking your booty, you know?" She rotated her hips as an example.

Phoebus made a tortured expression. "Please, Ai-chan, don't refer to those tightly choreographed performances as booty-shaking. And no, we don't play the instruments. I just use this when I'm writing songs."

"Oh!" Her face brightened. "A composer as well. Nice work, Na-kun!"

"And my next one will be dedicated to you." He gave her a wide smile.

"Me?"

"I'm thinking the stage set should be some dark, dank dungeon with manacles hanging from the wall, maybe an iron maiden in the middle, from which Yours Truly will emerge…"

Kotoko glared at his mischievous face and Keita's, who was struggling to control a snicker. "Smart ass," she said. "Well, you can work on _that_ during the cold therapy wrap session. Have you had experience with one of those machines, Kamogari-san?"

"Yes, Aihara-san."

"Get him set up and then find a place in the storeroom for these other boxes. After that, see me in my office to review the appointments we have later today."

"Certainly."

* * *

"All done, Aihara-san." Keita appeared in her door.

Kotoko looked up, a chocolate Twizzler drooping from the corner of her mouth. "Great!" she said, waving him in with another tube. "Want one?" she asked as he sat down.

He shook his head then picked up the folders that she shoved towards him. He was reading through the first when she interrupted him.

"Are you okay with electronics?"

"Uh, I think so," he answered. Shortly he was issued and logged into a tablet where he could view the same information in digital format.

"Sorry. I tend to drop those things or sit on them. The only damage to my paper folders is a little crinkling." By the looks of them, the cardboard had suffered more than 'a little'. "You can use that during your assignment here. We have patient records, appointment schedules, supply levels…"

"Yes, I meant to ask you about that," Keita interrupted her. "Did you duplicate an order on hot and cold packs, by any chance? I had trouble fitting all of them in the room."

Kotoko laughed and took a sip of her now-tepid coffee. She made a disgusted face and set it aside. "That, my dear apprentice, is the result of a sure bet against my old friend Shit-kun."

"The soccer star."

"Star! He'd love you for that. Anyway, he was here, shooting the bull about how irresistible he was to women, and I had to rub it in a little. Details aren't important."

"Okay." His eyes returned to the screen. "I don't think I can transfer _that_ back to Tonan Hospital though."

She chuckled. "I suppose this situation is unique in some ways. But," she straightened and leaned across the desk, "most of what I do will be entirely familiar to you. I just do my research and have a few more toys to play with than other facilities."

"Research? You mean like studying Naga-san's dance routines and locating his weaknesses?"

She snapped her fingers. "Exactly! Of course, men don't like being told they're weak, especially by a woman, so my natural tomboy attitude comes in real handy." Kotoko sneered in fond remembrance. "By the end of a few weeks, they've forgotten I'm female and are cussing me out as if I was one of them. Which I was," she added, "in my younger years. So, any questions on the appointments today?"

"Not really." Keita referred back to the records, swiping his finger across the screen. "They've been coming for several months and have almost completed the regimen you've designed for them."

"Yes, and those two are pretty reasonable about complying with the training. So are the ones we had this morning during Na-kun's hissy fit, which is why I don't mind double-booking them if I have to. We have a crybaby from the soccer team who's not far behind them that you'll see tomorrow as well a few others. I'll go over the planning and structuring of Na-kun's rehabilitation, and if we get a major rehab project during your time here, I'll give you a shot at designing it."

"Under your supervision, of course."

She nodded. "Of course."

"I understand that the facility was designed and paid for by a sporting franchise. But these patients," he waved the tablet, "are just regular people."

"Correct. There aren't that many serious injuries each season, so the facility is available to the community at large. Suites like the one Na-kun is occupying are generally reserved for the athletic or other high-profile patients who prefer to stay here as opposed to traveling each day. This way everyone benefits. I hope your supervisors aren't expecting you to come back with some secret way to open the pockets of the rich and famous for the hospital, because I assure you that it just turned out this way. I had nothing to do with it."

"I seriously doubt that, Aihara-san." He grinned at her. "As a matter of fact, I know quite well that it was your reputation that sealed the deal. I can do research myself, you know."

* * *

"How's your intern doing, Kotoko?" Naoki asked at dinner.

"An intern!" Mrs. Irie clasped her hands together. "My dear Kotoko-chan, a leader in the medical field!"

"Not really medical, Obasama," Kotoko corrected her. "But Kamogari-san is doing well. He knows much more than the basics and seems to have an instinctual knowledge of what the patient needs."

"And the prima donna that I operated on? Is he following orders?"

"For the most part. Na-kun seems to have bonded with Kamogari-san, so that will be good exposure to the quirky celebrity nature for him."

"Wait a minute, Kotoko-chan!" Mrs. Irie grabbed her forearm, causing Kotoko's chopsticks to separate.

"Shit," she said, looking mournfully at the dropped food.

"Language, dear," she corrected before returning to the topic at hand. "You have a _male_ intern? I thought it was a visiting nurse."

"Men can be nurses, too, Ma," Naoki said as he placed more food on Kotoko's plate.

"I know, I know," she fretted, "it's just that Kotoko-chan is so cute that he might fall in love with her, and _that_ wouldn't be good."

"I don't think that's going to happen, Obasama." She tried to soothe her. "We're both profess—"

"I know!" She beamed. "You can cut your hair again and maybe he'll think of you as a man."

Kotoko rolled her eyes. "Where do you come up with these ideas? And I'm growing it out this year. It's almost long enough for pigtails."

Naoki tilted his head. "Stubby ones, maybe." He laughed as she stuck her tongue out at him. "Anyway, Ma," he returned to his meal, "you probably ought to worry more about her patient."

"That's right! What's it called—transformation?"

"Transference," he corrected.

Kotoko scowled. "With your fan club, it's more likely to happen to you. And why are you riling her up like this?" she whispered. "You know how she is!"

"Wouldn't you rather have at least _one_ evening free of charmeuse versus chiffon discussions?"

* * *

A/N: Being not a particularly chatty person during story uploads, I don't express my appreciation for reviews (and reviewers) often enough, and I apologize for that. However, I regret that I have had to (negatively) moderate a Guest review for profanity and the expressed desire for the demise of a key character. Let me state right now that, yes, Mrs. Irie can be highly aggravating, but she always believes that her manipulations will bring about a happy result for all involved. She will continue to play a valued role in my writing, for even the most annoying characters can move the action forward. Often their results contain a measure of humor, and this fits right in with my stories, which are (usually) written for laughs and not tears. If that is not your cup of tea, then skip over them. Rant complete. Thank you for your attention.


	8. Chapter 8

Less than two weeks later Kotoko met Phoebus in the middle of the fitness room. She was rubbing her hands with glee.

"I mistrust that expression," the singer said warily.

Keita glanced at her face. "She's smiling," he commented. Kotoko's mood was generally even, but some days it appeared to fluctuate; he wondered at the cause. _Could it be relationship issues with Dr. Irie?_ He had strong feelings about the wisdom of workplace affairs; he hated the idea that a person for whom he had so much admiration (he dared not name an emotion stronger than that) could get caught up in the drama of one.

"But it's an evil smile!" Phoebus hissed at him.

"Nonsense," Kotoko almost sang. "Today you get your walking boot, and we can begin some mild legwork on that side."

"See, I told you it was evil."

* * *

Two hours later, his sweatband soaked, he looked up at his nemesis. "Is there any way that I can get back on those marvelous painkillers I had the first few days I was here?"

"Do you want to kiss your concert performances goodbye?" she replied brutally.

"But, seriously, Ai-chan, isn't there some sort of pill or shortcut to make the recovery easier?" As Kotoko stared at him incredulously, he continued, "Yeah, you were rough on the rest of me, but this ankle," he gave her his best sultry grin, "if it gets hurt with these exercises, I might never walk again, much less dance!"

"Has that bleach soaked through your skull and affected your brain cells?"

She ignored his practiced pout, so he asked, "Why must you get so personal? It was _just_ a question!"

"It was a stupid-ass question."

"Well, the only reason I came here is because Shit-kun raved about how your training got him in shape in record time."

Not content with just closing her eyes, Kotoko covered them with a hand. "Did he happen to _describe_ the training?"

"No, nobody's got time for that. You know how he can go on and on when he starts talking ball nowadays."

"Yeah, well, this person doesn't have time for your nonsense right now." She heaved a great sigh. "Give me credit for knowing what I'm doing and how intense you can go without hurting yourself. I mean a _real_ injury, not just a little ache that no one but a spoiled brat would complain about. Now, give me five slow leg extensions and keep your damn mouth shut."

Keita hesitantly whispered to her, "Aihara-san, I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to use that kind of language with patients."

"When he acts like a patient with a little sense, I'll speak to him nicely. When he acts like a pain in the ass I'll speak to him any way I please. Right, Na-kun?"

Phoebus, his lips tightly shut, nodded but muttered, "I thought my coming here would enhance your reputation."

"I'll take care of my own damn reputation," she countered. "Now, where are my leg extensions?"

* * *

"You were lucky that this morning wasn't a photo shoot," Phoebus taunted her, having regained his spirit upon completion of the exercises and after enjoying the refreshments provided daily by his manager. He had generously invited the other patients to join him, as he figured he would be safer from Kotoko's sharp tongue with witnesses nearby.

"Photo—damn! That's this afternoon, isn't it?" Kotoko checked her schedule. "Don't they have enough pictures of you sweating already?"

"My fans would claim there could never be too many photos of me," he sneered slightly.

"Well, I hadn't planned for an extra session," she made computations in her head, "but you could do some more arm work…"

"Nah," he disagreed. "I figure they can get shots of me working on my songs at the keyboard. Say!" He snapped his fingers. "Maybe I could move it out here and give your other patients some music to exercise by!"

"Really?" she snorted. "Wouldn't your manager go all 'Super Saiyan' if you gave an impromptu—and _free_ —concert like that?"

"I can sweet-talk her easily," he claimed. "Besides, it will relieve the fans that my brain wasn't injured along with my ankle."

* * *

Naoki sighed and turned to face Kotoko in bed. "Can't sleep?"

She flopped from her side to her back. "What gave it away?"

"Oh, maybe the tossing and turning for the past forty-five minutes." He paused. "Is it Mom?"

Kotoko pressed her ear against the wall to make sure that Mrs. Irie's snores were continuing. "Do you think she's going to give up anytime soon?"

"Who knows?" He pulled her close and gave a chuckle. "Dad just laughed and said to suck it up for a while, so he'll be no help in evicting her."

"What a traitor," she pouted. "Why can't he keep her in line?"

"He chooses his battles wisely," his son said, "and this isn't one that he wants to waste that much effort on, since she has entrenched herself here so well."

"And we thought we were going to be slick and avoid all this stupid rigamarole of a fancy-schmancy wedding."

"Yes," he pursed his lips, "she certainly outsmarted us. I must be out of practice at predicting her crazy ideas. Of course, we could come clean and put a stop to all this."

Kotoko sat up straight. "No way! This house is too small for the fireworks that would follow."

"It's too small to have long-term visitors also." He tugged her back down. "Doesn't she realize that with these thin walls she's preventing any activities that might produce grandchildren?"

Kotoko pulled away and placed an arm over her forehead. "Thank goodness I finally convinced her not to object to the punch bag. I'm not sure how else I'd be able to work out my frustrations."

Although the two had brainstormed for other locations to get some "private time", Kotoko had refused a hotel visit ("Everyone knows us in this area so we'd have to travel half the city away to keep people from thinking we're cheating on someone else") and Naoki had balked at Kotoko's suggestion of her supply room ("Don't you know they have security cameras everywhere? I'm not interested in showing up on the X-rated version of YouTube."). The ensuing stalemate provided satisfaction to no one.

* * *

Mrs. Irie considered the sculptured landscape surrounding the rehabilitation wing. Smooth curving paths lined the green lawn, with no steps or bumps to disturb a wheelchair or cane walker, and benches appeared at regular intervals to provide resting spots.

"But none of them offer direct view into the building," she mused. "I suppose I will have to go undercover—literally." Glancing stealthily in each direction, she ducked behind the tall rhododendrons nearest the building and discovered a shady area padded with mulch. "Ah! This will keep me out of the hot sun so I won't have to explain pink cheeks to the children," she exclaimed. "Now I won't blow my cover of keeping house all day."

Alas! The windows began just above her head. "Well, I've faced tougher problems," she assured herself. "I just need to purchase a short stool, and then I'll be able to check and see if there are any emotions being 'transferred'." She giggled. "This is just like old times!"


	9. Chapter 9

"No, Obasama," Kotoko protested, "if I wear this, the guests will mistake ME for the wedding cake!"

"Do you really think so, Kotoko-chan?" Mrs. Irie pouted as she closely perused the seventh rejected bridal gown of the evening.

"All those hanging loops of fabric," Kotoko moved her hands in arcs. "It looks like Belle's ball gown in _Beauty and the Beast_."

"What a lovely movie that was!" she gushed. "But of course, this one is white, not gold."

"And why does it have to be white? I look all washed out when I wear that. I need color in my clothes."

"Tradition, darling, tradition," Mrs. Irie insisted.

"Western tradition," Kotoko muttered. "We're Japanese."

"What did you say, dear?" she asked absently, turning a page in her voluminous notebook. "How about this one? It reminds me of dear Princess Diana's wedding gown."

Kotoko stared at it. "And it would swallow me up even more than it did her. And considering how that marriage ended, do you really want me to consider this?"

"Shush!" Mrs. Irie waved away her concerns. "Don't be superstitious. Let's ask Naoki. Onii-chan?" She turned. "Now where did that boy go?"

"He went to the room half an hour ago." Kotoko yawned. "Where I'd like to be, as a matter of fact. Are we done yet?"

"No, dear, just a few more to look at."

Kotoko moaned.

* * *

Phoebus glowered at Kotoko, across the room berating Mido for being a slacker "in the last leg of your rehabilitation!" and muttered to Keita, "Doesn't she realize that time is of the essence with me?"

"Four more, Naga-san," the nurse reminded him. "What is your rush?"

Once he had completed the required repetitions, he waved at his face impatiently. "This! I know I'm beautiful," he admitted with no shame, "but youth is fleeting. Every week away from the public eye might as well be a year!"

"Is it really that bad?"

"Of course it is!" he snapped. "Do you know how many young guns are aiming for my spot? I just hope the agency can stall them until I get back in shape."

"What're you grousing about now, Na-kun?"

He spun around, not having heard Kotoko's approach, and might have fallen if Keita had not caught his arm. "Just that I need to be back in stage-ready shape _yesterday_ ," he whined, seating himself on a bench.

"If you're afraid you're going to be replaced," she said absently as she looked at Keita's record of his progress, "you should have invested your money better."

"It's not the money!" he shouted. "It's the attention! The fame! The glory!"

"Yeah, sounds about like Shit-kun," she noted, passing the tablet back to Keita. "Look," she faced him, arms akimbo, "even _he_ stayed in the spotlight during rehab without actually playing on the field. He did commercials for the college, made inspirational speeches, held autograph sessions. Use your noggin!" She rapped the top of his skull. "And besides," she said as an afterthought, "who says you have to do cartwheels on stage to sing, anyway?"

"But that's—" he broke off his protest and stared into the distance.

Kotoko and Keita observed the almost visible gears turning in his brain. "Hm," Kotoko said, "he's trying to think. I hope he doesn't strain anything."

* * *

"How about a wedding dress that doesn't drag the ground three meters behind me?" Kotoko's voice had a desperate ring to it.

"But it will look so elegant as you walk down the aisle, following your bridesmaids, treading on rose petals tossed by the flower girl." Mrs. Irie's arms made graceful, almost balletic, throwing movements in slow motion.

"Bridesmaids? Flower girl? Aisle? Are you talking about a church? Obasama, we're _Buddhist_!"

"Kotoko-chan, why are you being so obstructive? It's not as if I don't know what I'm talking about. After all, I planned Yuuko-chan's wedding with her mother, and it turned out magnificently."

"Not what I heard," Kotoko muttered. According to Matsumoto's version, the screaming matches between Mrs. Irie and her mother almost made her and Watanabe just stroll down to City Hall and call it "Done".

The older woman continued, unabated. "Of course, I was slightly miffed that she passed over all those young executives at Pandai for Onii-chan's high school friend, but she said something about the workplace not being a proper venue for romance."

Kotoko leaned her head against the back of the couch. "Right now my own home is not a proper venue for romance."

"Venue! Yes, we need to talk about a romantic location for the ceremony… I'll prepare that presentation for our next meeting." She winked and patted Kotoko's knee. "Now, you just go and cuddle with your sweetheart right now."

"Lovely." Kotoko sighed. "And 'cuddle' is about all we get to do these days."

* * *

"Um, Aihara-san?"

"Yes, Kamogari-san?" Kotoko looked up from her paper notes at the desk.

"My nursing study group from back in college would like to come visit for a few days."

"And you need some time off?" She smiled at him. "No problem at all. You do such exemplary work that you can have all the time you want."

"Well, that is, they'd like to have a tour of this facility." He gestured at the rehabilitation area, with its exercise equipment, mats, and walking trainers. "I'm the only one interested in this specialty, but they want to see where I've been spending my time. And, uh, meet you," he added.

"Certainly. Any friends of yours will be welcome. I bet they're all overachievers just like you."

"I don't know about that," he hedged, "but they're all _characters_ of some sort."

"Hey, aren't we all?" She laughed. "Do they have a place to stay yet?"

"No, I was going to look into some hostels or cheap hotels."

"Don't bother." Kotoko waved at him. "I'll see about accommodations in the guest wing where you're staying. They won't mind doubling up, will they? How many of them?"

"Just three. Marina and Tomoko can bunk together, and Motoki can share my room."

Kotoko winked. "You devil! Is she your girlfriend?"

Keita's face blushed crimson. "No! That is, he, uh, _she_ isn't."

"What is it?" She looked confused. "He or she?"

"I'll let you make your own judgment when they get here," he temporized.

"O-o-o-kay," she drawled, still puzzled.

* * *

"Excuse me, but are you a member of the paparazzi?"

Mrs. Irie, disguised in her usual hat and sunglasses, jumped at the question and twirled around, falling off the stool. Glaring up from the ground, she spat out, "Why, I never!"

"Yes, you don't look the type, but the quality of your camera roused my suspicions." Honda jerked her head up at the window.

"I just enjoy my hobby," she stated loftily. "Uh, did anyone else, uh…"

She shook her head. "I'm the only one who noticed, but then I tend to have a sixth sense for spotting stalkers."

"Stalker!" Mrs. Irie exclaimed.

"There's a celebrity staying in that facility," Honda informed the older woman. " _My_ celebrity, as a matter of fact."

"Yours? But Kotoko-chan is mine!"

"What the—? Wait, who did you say?" The manager peered at her closely.

"Kotoko-chan, the one in charge, my almost-daughter," she snapped out.

"You mean Aihara, the martinet who only allows my photographer a measly couple of hours access a week to Phoebus?"

"Phoebus?" Not being conversant with J-pop, Mrs. Irie was indeed at sea.

"Her famous patient! The one who doesn't need unauthorized photos leaking onto the web or into the gossip rags!"

"Ah," Mrs. Irie resorted to her thinking pose, index finger on chin, "Kotoko-chan did say she had a friend staying, but his name was Na-something."

"Same person! And I'm beginning to wonder if she's trying to hide something. We set up that fake story to keep the public's interest going, but I can't tell if she's planning to pull a fast one on us. By the way, what are you doing out here in the bushes?"

"Kotoko-chan hasn't been acting herself lately, so I thought I'd spy, uh, visit her at her workplace and see if there's a problem at the hospital."

Honda eyed her narrowly. "Hmm. It looks like we're here for similar reasons. Maybe we can cooperate in this venture. Would you like to discuss it over a cup of coffee?"

Mrs. Irie rose and dusted off her derrière. "As long as it's someplace without twigs."


	10. Chapter 10

"Wow, Kobe Hospital is a lot bigger than Tonan." Keita's colleagues had rubbernecked all the way to their assigned rooms.

"Yes, but the people here are really friendly, although quite professional," Keita assured them. "Are you ready to see where I spend most of my time?"

"Absolutely!" Motoki gushed.

Marina winked. "Plus we want to see this 'Aihara' that you talk of so much."

"Of course, if you fall hard for her you might move here, and we'd miss you," added Tomoko.

"It's not like that!" he protested.

Motoki laid a comradely arm across his shoulders. "Now, don't be shy. We're your best friends and can certainly read between the lines. You just _thought_ we came to see you."

"Actually, we're here to vet her!" Marina gave a sly laugh." And also check out the doctors down south."

"Please, _please,_ PLEASE, don't embarrass me!" Keita begged. He feared it was to no avail.

* * *

Kotoko happily greeted Keita's visitors. Her eyes widened when she rose from her bow to find herself under several measuring gazes.

Motoki clasped her hands and turned to Keita. "She's absolutely adorable. I approve!"

"Approve?" Kotoko cocked her head to the side.

"Never mind, Aihara-san," he rushed to say, glaring at the most outspoken of his trio of friends.

"It's very nice to meet you." Tomoko gave her a gentle smile.

"Yes," added Marina. She looked around. "Nice set-up here. By any chance, do the doctors use this as a workout place as well?"

"It's available for them, of course, but rehab patients get priority."

"Yes!" Motoki piped up. "Do you have any dreamy doctors on staff? We're _dying_ to see how they rank with the current heart-throb of Tonan."

Marina sighed. "Dr. Nishigaki is a stunner, but such a player!"

"Guys!" Keita's voice was aggrieved. "What did I ask you? And right before we walked in?"

"No, no!" Kotoko laughed. "Don't worry. I can tell that you and your friends are close. Since 'dreaminess' is subjective, I can't promise anything. However," she winked, "we do have a celebrity patient who is eager to meet all of you. Prepare yourselves." She called to the other side of the room, "Make your entrance, Na-kun!"

Squeals and gasps greeted his appearance, the loudest from Motoki, and the group hurried to the idol's side.

"Aihara-san," Keita began, "I'm really, really sorry…"

"Don't worry about it," she assured him. "He's eating up the attention. See, he already has them mesmerized." She rocked back and forth on her heels. "Just because I'm not susceptible doesn't mean that I can't appreciate his charm and good looks. Oops!" She began to walk over. "We're being paged."

"So you're the young love of this guy?" Motoki asked Kotoko, shooting Keita a worried look.

"No, no," Kotoko waved her hands. "Don't believe the stories in the scandal sheets. It's all a publicity ploy to keep Na-kun in the public eye."

"But I'd appreciate it if you'd keep our little secret." Phoebus batted his eyes to great effect.

"Of course!" they chorused, gleeful at being in possession of confidential information.

"Do you mind," asked Tomoko, "if I look at your incision?"

Phoebus and Kotoko exchanged a startled look. "Well, it's actually a scar now," he said, "but, Ai-chan?"

"Sure." She gestured at Keita. "Kamogari-san, would you do the honors?"

Keita carefully removed the light brace and bandage as Phoebus reclined on an exercise bench. They bent over once he stepped back.

"Very nice work!" Motoki observed.

"The doctor must be extremely skillful," said Marina.

"Only the best for the best, right, Ai-chan?" Phoebus winked at her.

"Yes!" interrupted Keita. "And here is Dr. Irie now."

"Hey, doc!" Phoebus waved at him. Motoki and Marina's eyes shifted between him and Naoki speculatively as he approached.

Unexpectedly it was Tomoko who approached him with stars in her eyes. "Doctor!" she exclaimed. "Do you have a few minutes to describe the surgery that you did on Phoebus?"

"Uh, on Nagayama-san?" he asked, eyebrow lifting at Kotoko in inquiry.

"Oh, Nao—Irie-sensei," she recovered, "these are Kamogari-san's friends from Tokyo. Nurses," she added.

"I see. Well," he looked down at Tomoko, "if you're that interested, we have the video on file. I'm sure we can arrange for you to view it."

Her eyes widened and she gasped, "Oh, that would be beyond wonderful!"

"Yes, yes," Marina shoved her aside, "we know you're a surgical fanatic. But, say, Dr. Irie, by any chance, are you single?"

"Ah—"

"Marina!" Motoki took her place. "That's way too blunt." She batted her eyelashes at Naoki. "Besides, it wouldn't really matter if he was. After all, a new love could appear at any moment."

"Interesting philosophy," Naoki managed. "Here, Kotoko!" He shoved a folder at her. "Your next project will be operated on tomorrow. I've got to go...do... _something_!" He fled with almost humorous haste.

"My! He didn't stay too long, did he?" Marina's and Motoki's disappointment was evident on their faces, while Tomoko just murmured, "The surgery!"

"Hey, Kamogari-san," Kotoko touched Keita's arm, "why don't you take Ogura-san to the library and sign her on to the surgical archives?"

"Sure, Aihara-san." He escorted one young woman out and sent a warning death glare to the others as he left.

They heeded it not one whit. While Marina meandered back to Phoebus's side, Motoki leaned over. "So, Aihara-san, it's still 'Kamogari'? I thought you'd be at first names by now."

"Huh?" Kotoko blinked. "That wouldn't really be professional."

"Oh? But you like him, don't you?"

"Like him? Yes," she nodded, "he is knowledgeable and efficient. I wasn't too happy about getting an intern, but he almost makes me change my mind."

"Yes, you have to admit that Keita is special."

"Well," Kotoko said thoughtfully, "he manages to create a rapport with the patients—much different than the type I do—" she laughed, "and gets them to try their best. So I would definitely say that he has chosen his specialty well."

Motoki's bottom lip protruded. "Not exactly what I was after…"

"And what would that be?" Keita was out of breath, having sprinted back in fear of what his friends might do.

"Oh, never mind!" She waved away the question. "I'll just go back to Mr. Celebrity. I can't have Marina hog him all to herself. Although if Dr. McSteamy shows up again, tell him I'm free for the evening!"

"Dr. McSteamy…?"

"Irie-sensei," Keita gritted out. "Those two are the worst man-eaters at Tonan Hospital. Sorry about that."

Kotoko looked him up and down. "You appear undigested, plus they seem to like you a lot. What gives?"

"Oh," he blushed, "Early in our acquaintance, I let them have it for their unprofessional reasons for joining the profession. Motoki was there for the fashion—"

"Fashion?" Kotoko stared at him as if he had grown two heads.

"She is enamored of the uniform," he said drily. "The _female_ uniform."

"Oh, cosplay!"

"And Marina wants to marry a doctor and 'ride the gravy train', as she puts it." He snorted and shook his head.

"Well, at least Ogura-san is interested in the medicine."

"She would've done better to have become a surgeon instead of a nurse. You should have seen her when we were introduced to our first cadaver." He shuddered. "Even _I_ turned green at her glee in handling the internal organs."

"Well, they are very lucky to have someone as dedicated as you to keep them in line." Kotoko sighed. "If only Mido was on the schedule for the day, he might have brought Shit-kun along and your friends wouldn't have to share a celebrity."

Keita laughed. "I don't think Naga-san minds."

"Yeah, he is a bit of a narcissist, isn't he? Oh," she handed him the folder that she had received from Naoki, "here's your first solo effort. Look this over and make your best rehab plan for the patient."

His eyes widened. "Thank you for your trust, Aihara-san!" He bowed. "I will give it my all!"

"No need to be so formal." She waved him back up. "As a matter of fact, I think I'll take your tall friend's advice. Call me Kotoko, Keita-san." She held out her hand for a shake, a slight smile in remembrance of being scolded for such an action years earlier.

Keita misunderstood the smile and tucked the folder under one arm, clasping her hand with both of his. "Thank you, Kotoko-san!"

* * *

"That is absolutely the last straw!" Mrs. Irie stepped down from her stool and stamped her foot. "It's bad enough that those... _females_ were all over Onii-chan, but now that intern of hers is holding her hand!" She hopped back up. "Well, at least that blond male bimbo the manager was so concerned with is being kept occupied. I don't know why celebrities think they have to be so flashy…"

* * *

"Is it safe to come in now?" Naoki peered around the door frame.

Kotoko laughed and waved him in. "Yes. They've all gone out for dinner. Na-kun put on a disguise worthy of your mother and is treating them."

"And they didn't invite _you_?" he teased.

She shook her head. "Oh, I was invited but decided I wanted an early night. Besides," she grinned, "the numbers were already uneven."

"I bet that tickled your pal."

"Oh, Na-kun was lapping it up. He seemed especially taken with the trans nurse." She tapped her nose with a pencil. "I wonder if he knows…"

"It's not our business," he reminded her. "Are you ready to pack up and head home?"

"Yes." She began clearing her desk. "Another reason I turned them down is that lately I'm exhausted at the end of the day."

"Probably because Mom is keeping us up until all hours with her latest ideas. Speaking of her, when I was in the fourth floor break room, I could have sworn that I saw her hovering below outside the entrance."

"Really?"

"Well, whoever the woman was had one of those huge hats that Mom likes, but she ducked into a taxi before I could get a good look."

"We're probably just so paranoid that we're seeing her everywhere."

"'We'?"

"There was someone the other day on our accessible paths that reminded me of her. Of course, I only got a glimpse because of the bushes."

"You don't think—"

"No." Kotoko said firmly. "What reason would she have to spy on us at work? Doesn't she get enough of that at the house?"


	11. Chapter 11

"Did your friends make it back safely, Keita-san?" Kotoko asked.

"Yes," he replied, "and they sent their most sincere thanks for the tour and getting to meet your star patient."

"Hmph! Star pain in the rear," she contradicted him. "Did he behave at dinner or was he exposed?"

Keita laughed. "We managed to squeak through, but it would have been Motoki and Marina who were most likely to let the cat out of the bag. At least they waited until we got back to the hospital for their selfie frenzy."

"What?"

"You know, proof that they had actually met him." He hastily added, "They know about the need for secrecy and won't show them off until Naga-san's released."

"His manager will appreciate that." Kotoko scrunched her nose. "I guess I'm too used to him to get excited like them. So," she held out her hand for the tablet that Keita was eagerly clutching, "do you have your training schedule plotted?"

"Yes, Kotoko-san." He handed it over, and his fists clenched as he stood behind her while she scanned the screen.

"Hm. It looks good. However, I'd wait until the physician's assessment after surgery before setting these repetitions in stone." His head leaned nearer and nodded. "But the exercise progression is sound." She handed it back to him. "Congratulations. This one is your baby. Of course," she added, "I'll have to be the one to finish it up when you return to Tokyo."

Some of the light dimmed in his eyes. "I almost forgot. It's just a few weeks more, isn't it?"

"Yes," she answered with a slight smile, "time certainly flies, doesn't it? Well," she glanced at her watch and touched his shoulder, "if you want to watch the surgery, you'd better get a move on!"

"Thank you, Kotoko-san!" He abruptly hugged her. "I won't let you down!"

"Great," Kotoko grumbled to herself after he left, "I knew I shouldn't have gone to a first-name basis. That was _way_ too casual!"

* * *

Mrs. Irie, shoving around a dust mop in a janitorial jumpsuit, peered from under the brim of her cap. "Why is Kotoko-chan standing so close to that male nurse? I knew he was trouble the first time I heard of him!" She almost sprang forward when Keita embraced her but managed to recall that she was supposed to remain incognito. She ducked her head reflexively as he left the rehab center. "Oh, I must warn Onii-chan about this," she moaned. "I can't allow that young man to tempt her heart away!"

* * *

To Kotoko's great relief, the impulsive hug was neither mentioned nor repeated by Keita, so after a few days she filed it away in her mind as a momentary aberration caused by excitement. One morning as she once more reminded a patient how to position herself for the best advantage, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Keita, assisting a more-than-usually chipper Phoebus, kept glancing her way. Shrugging, she placed her attention firmly on her own task and decided to follow up later.

"Was Na-kun getting on your nerves earlier?" she asked when they broke for lunch. Mrs. Irie was playing hausfrau to the extreme, lovingly preparing a meal for her and Naoki each day. Unfortunately, his busy schedule never seemed to free him at the proper time, so she had begun sharing the food with Keita to keep it from going to waste.

"What? Oh, he was talking about dealing with fans and his purported love life. It was fairly interesting." Keita took a second roll of fried egg.

"Good, then. If he ever aggravates you too much, just give me a holler and I'll take him down a notch or two." Kotoko studied a piece of fish then held it out to him when her nose twitched. "Does this smell off to you?"

Keita sniffed. "No. I've had several pieces, and it tastes great. It's amazing that you have time to prepare all this first thing in the morning."

"Well, about that…" Kotoko considered telling him the truth, then made a face and shrugged. "Never mind. I'll let you have the rest of the fish. I guess my stomach's not in the mood for seafood today."

"Ah, Kotoko-san?" Keita's voice was hesitant. "I was wondering… Does this hospital have any policies against employees dating one another?"

"Not really." She took a drink of water. "Why? Does Tonan Hospital have restrictions like that?"

He looked at the table and blushed. "No, but…"

"Hey!" She leaned over. "Didn't you tell me that you _didn't_ have a crush on one of your friends?"

"No, no!" He waved his hands.

"So it's someone else then? Maybe here?" She barrelled on. "Well, you're only young once. Go ahead and ask her out. If she turns you down, at least you can dust off your shoes and look elsewhere."

"It's just, I don't know, I think it can cause complications to be dating someone you work with. I mean, if things go south, well, they're _right there_ , all the time."

"You could always ask for a transfer," she offered practically. "Getting a department or two away can ease the pain of seeing them on a daily basis."

"So," he asked daringly, "has this ever happened to you? Having to work with someone you used to date?"

"Used to date?" She gave him a mysterious smile. "Not really in the manner that you're speaking. But I think I'm getting the impression that you're not in favor of workplace romance. Am I right?"

"Well, yes."

"I have a friend who also subscribes to that philosophy, and believe me, there were lots of heartbroken young men who were disappointed because of it. If that's your outlook, then great. But it won't be very popular in some circles. After all, hospital workers have long hours, and sometimes their only friends are coworkers. Who else can they go out with?"

Keita had a frustrated look on his face, the point of his conversation having flown way above Kotoko's head. "Well, anyway, I just want to say that, if you were ever in a situation where you needed to get away, Tokyo is a great place to live and I'm sure you could find a wonderful job there."

"Probably so," she agreed, "but I grew up there and chose to move here several years ago."

"Isn't your family still there? You could be closer to them."

"Kobe is plenty close for me." She shook her head. "The family I have improves with distance. At the moment, I could use a little more distance," she added.

"Pardon?"

"Never mind. This feels like home now, so I'm not planning to move." She indicated the lunchbox. "Come on. Finish your portion so we can get back to work."

Glumly Keita complied. He had tapped into the hospital rumor mill several weeks earlier and learned all about the Irie Naoki Fan Club that was reborn each semester with the new nurses. He felt it wasn't fair to Kotoko, with her being way too innocent to be involved with someone with as many followers as Naoki. One of his fans was bound to get to him sooner or later, and then she'd be left with a heartbreak. _I just hope she remembers this conversation at that time._

* * *

"You know, I thought at first that you were exaggerating about that singer of yours," Mrs. Irie confided to Honda as they sipped iced coffees.

"Really?" she sniffed. "How out of touch _are_ you?"

"That's because Kotoko-chan doesn't seem to pay him any special mind. But when _That Nurse_ brought in some friends, well, let's say he attracted them like a magnet. Up until Onii-chan arrived, that is." She settled back into her seat with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Onii-chan? You actually believe that Dr. Irie—attractive though he is—could possibly compare to a member of Resplendent Olympus?"

"Well, I _am_ his mother," Mrs. Irie retorted. "I'm allowed a little prejudice. And," she admitted, "they went right back to your young man once he left."

"Naturally." Her visage was smug.

"But it's _That Nurse_ I'm concerned about," Mrs. Irie fretted. "He's with her all day, and she is even letting him eat the food I prepared for Onii-chan!"

"Let's see," Honda consulted her notes, "that would be Kamogari Keita. Very attractive. We used him and your son for the admission photos. They received a few fan letters themselves, as a matter of fact."

Her companion hissed. "No! No more competition! Already I'm afraid that my children's relationship has been sabotaged. That Kamota or whatever his name is has gotten too close to my Kotoko-chan."

"Well, I hate if this sounds cold, but it's better they find out now. Besides," she stowed her cell phone in her bag, "I'm not going to get concerned unless she becomes involved with Phoebus."

"You're heartless!"

"I've got to be in this business." She stood and looked down at the matron. "Are you up for another mission, one where you can get a real close look at them?"

Her eyes lit up with excitement. "Of course!"


	12. Chapter 12

"Kotoko?" Naoki stopped at the door of the bathroom and grinned at the young woman tugging portions of her hair in different directions.

"Yes?" She turned to him, a distinct expression of dissatisfaction on her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, distracted from his intent.

She pulled a clump of hair in front of her face and scowled at the ends. "It's at that awkward length. It's getting in my way but won't stay up worth a darn."

"Let me see what I can do." Naoki took the brush from her and detangled the strands that she had mangled. "Are things still progressing well with your intern?" he inquired casually while looping a band around half her hair.

"Keita-san?" she replied, watching his movements carefully. "Sure, he's doing great."

"Keita?" He raised an eyebrow. "First name basis now?"

She wrinkled her nose. "One of his nurse friends suggested it. I'm not too comfortable, since I'm still technically his supervisor, but I can't think of a way to reverse my decision."

"I see." _So Mother was just imagining things, as usual._ A certain tension that he had been unaware of in his chest eased a little. "I'm sure it's not too inappropriate," he assured her. "Besides, he doesn't have much time left here."

"Right!" She grinned at him in the mirror. "And I can remind myself not to do it with future interns. Damn!" Her smile turned upside down. "I forgot there were going to be more after him!"

He laughed and embraced her from behind. "Never fear, I have confidence that you can handle anybody the hospital throws at you."

"Sure I can." She turned and kissed him quickly. "But that doesn't mean that I have to like it!"

* * *

"Yo, Ai-chan!" Phoebus propped himself up in Kotoko's doorway. "What's with the hair?"

Kotoko self-consciously grabbed the pigtails just below her ears. "Just trying to keep it out of my face and off my shoulders, with the warmer weather, you know. Does it look funny?"

"No," he laughed, "not if you're a puppy." He easily dodged the stress ball she hurled at his head.

"What d'you want?" she asked grumpily when he retrieved it and placed it on her desk.

"You need to treat your friends and your patients better," he chided her.

She closed her eyes and clapped her hands to her cheeks. "I know. I've felt like such a bitch lately."

"I noticed," he said. "I was about to have Honda-chan buy you a chew toy so you'd leave my butt alone."

Kotoko opened one eye. " _I_ can say that. _You_ can't. Quit stalling."

"Okay. Well," he rubbed hands together, "do you have any afternoons with no appointments, not counting me?"

She raised an eyebrow at the request but brought up the scheduling program. "Let's see, next Tuesday. What's going on?"

"Could you please block it off?" He both bowed and held his hands together in supplication. I'd like to see if one of your suggestions will work out, and I need the entire room for it."

"I'm confused," she admitted as she proceeded to adjust the schedule, "but if it's one of my ideas, I'm sure it will be great."

"Now who's the smart ass?"

* * *

"This is your big plan? Use my entire room as a photo shoot location?" Kotoko rubbed one temple as she viewed a scene of chaos in what was once a well-organized rehabilitation center.

"Not just a photo shoot," Phoebus assured her, although the multiple cameras and tripods seemed to make a lie out of his claim. Their conversation was interrupted by the noisy arrival of a trio of sunglasses-clad young men behind a phalanx of blacksuited guards, with Honda bringing up the rear.

"May I present," she said with a flourish after scurrying up to Kotoko, "the rest of Resplendent Olympus."

"Crap," Kotoko muttered before giving them a large smile. The photographers abandoned their assistants and converged on the group that encircled her and her old pal, their camera flashes blinding her. "Hold on a minute!" She waved her hands. "What's going on here?"

"So you're the magic lady that's going to give us back our Phoebus Apollo?" A rainbow-haired man kissed her hand. "Not only healed in body and but also in spirit!"

"Get back, Sy!" Another shoved his way forward. "Don't monopolize our group's possible savior."

"I don't know—"

"Behave!" Phoebus shouted. "Sorry, Ai-chan," he said when the hubbub eased. "The peacock over there is Poseidon; we call him Sy. The dark haired one with all the piercings—even in some _interesting_ places—" he added in a lower tone, making Kotoko's cheeks flush, "is Ares. Pink hair over there is Eros."

"The god of love, at your service," he gave her not a Japanese bow, but one of a medieval European courtier.

"I thought she was a woman," Kotoko replied, blinking.

"She got you there!" The other two began pounding him between the shoulderblades.

"That would actually be Aphrodite," Honda interspersed. "But her son Eros is also associated with love as well. As in 'erotic'," she whispered.

"Ew." Kotoko nodded then looked over each of them carefully. "But you know, I thought the king of Greek gods was Soose."

"Zeus, you heathen!" Phoebus shoved her with an elbow, laughing.

"Yeah, we couldn't use that name," the until-now silent Ares spoke up. "Phoebus here is full enough of himself without being crowned king of the pantheon."

"Although," Sy looked him up and down, "with that limp maybe we could rename him 'Hephaestus'."

"You bastard!" They engaged in some light wrestling, although Kotoko's sharp eyes noticed that they were all careful to be gentle with the recuperating god.

"Why's he so worked up about it?" Kotoko muttered to Keita, who had emerged from the supply closet and had spent the last few minutes observing the show.

"Hephaestus is considered the ugliest of the gods and is usually portrayed as crippled," he whispered to her.

Kotoko rolled her eyes. "Again I ask, 'Why not Japanese gods?' Then I'd understand all these obscure references."

"And where's the fun in that?" Phoebus had broken away and drew near. "The Japanese people are fascinated by foreign things just as the rest of the world is fascinated by us. It gives us a little—what's the word, Honda-chan?"

"Cachet, perhaps?"

"Yeah, that's it." He leaned over and whispered to the two of them. "They actually had to explain it to me too, at first!"

Honda clapped her hands for attention. "Okay, boys! Get in your usual photo lineup for some routine shots, then Sakurauchi will direct you for some posing with the equipment before you start your big project."

"Okay!" "Yes, Boss Lady!" "Aye!"

"Hell," Kotoko said. "I'm going back to my office." She nodded at Keita. "You can watch if you like. Hey! Na-kun!" He turned at her call. "Make sure you get autographs for Nurse Takami's daughter! Oh, and another set for my little brother's girlfriend."

He gave her double thumbs-up then turned back to the crew.

After about half an hour she looked up from her monitor and saw the group marking the floor with masking tape. Intrigued, she rose and stood leaning in the doorway. "What are they doing?" she asked a photographer resting near her, checking the images on his camera.

"Blocking out the choreography for the new songs," he informed her.

"Choreogr—Yo, Na-kun!" She waved. "Don't undo all my hard work!"

" _Your_ hard work?" He approached her smiling, a sheaf of papers in his hand. "I think _I_ was the one sweating it out in here."

"Yeah, yeah." She waved away his comment.

"No, videos for these songs can be recorded with me doing limited movements," he showed her the diagrams that he had drawn during his creative time. "They won't be concert recordings but staged, so I can be spliced here and there. For the stage I promise to be even more careful."

"You'd better!"

"I figure a flashier clothes design than the others and maybe an extra bit of gold to my hair should keep me in the forefront as much as a tumbling routine."

"Good thinking." She gave him a serious look. "You do know that, despite what I put you through, I really care about your health and welfare, don't you?"

He gave her an enthusiastic hug and a smacking kiss on the lips. "Of course I know that, Ai-chan!"

Halfway across the room, a masked photographer's assistant gasped as Honda shrieked, "I said it was pretend!" She and the rest of the interested group (as well as the photographers) hurried over as Phoebus continued.

"Actually, you're the inspiration for not only the idea of returning to the group early, but for a couple of the songs I wrote." At that, the shutters began clicking.

"Me?" Kotoko pointed to herself.

He gave her a pleased nod. "Yep. We have half an album's worth of songs and I've already blocked out moves for at least three videos. We should shoot right back to the top."

"Where we belong," added Eros.

The quartet created a square and grasped hands in the middle. "Resplendent Olympus!" They then leaped into the air, with the exception of Phoebus, who just waved his arms around.

Kotoko shook her head. "Celebrities."

* * *

" _Now_ do you believe me about the attractiveness of Resplendent Olympus?" Honda walked towards the exit beside one of the photography assistants.

Mrs. Irie tugged off the thick-framed glasses and pulled down the face mask. "The nerve of him! Stealing my Kotoko-chan's lips like that!"

* * *

"Yuuki-kun, will you please stop laughing? It's not funny."

"I hate to disagree with you, Onee-chan. Oh, wait, I don't hate it at all. I think it's hilarious."

"Being an adolescent, of course you do. Now come on, can't you think of any reason to call her back to Tokyo? I mean, you are her son as well. Don't you need your mother's attention?"

"Kotoko, our dads are enjoying this time without her. They can stay up as late as they want watching ball games."

"Staying up late? What about their jobs?"

"Your dad is letting your old boyfriend—"

"Kin-chan was never that!"

"—take over a lot of the restaurant responsibility. And I finally got mine to start delegating at Pandai."

"Food! Meals!" She tried another tack.

"As for cooking, well, you know your father is more than capable."

"Is Ojisama watching his diet without Obasama around?" Mr. Irie had a health scare several years earlier. Kotoko had missed a semester of school getting him on a low-impact exercise program while his wife adjusted her recipes to reduce fat and sodium.

"He's just fine. We're _all_ just fine," he amended. "The only downside is that Konomi has to make our study snacks when she visits. But _she_ ," he reminded her with slight malice, "has more skill in the kitchen than some people I know."

"I've gotten better!" she protested with a little heat. "Hey! What do you mean, Konomi is coming over? That's it! She needs a chaperone!"

"What?!"

"We can't have two hormonal teenagers alone in the house, getting all private. That is unseemly."

"Gee, Kotoko, just because you're not getting any doesn't mean the rest of the world has to suffer right along with you."

She gasped. "You mean you and Konomi—!"

"No!" he howled. "It was a joke!"

"But when I tell your mother—"

"Yeah, just try that." His tone became sinister. "You know all she wants is grandkids. If she thinks there's a chance _I_ can provide them to her, she'll stay with you forever."

"Damn your Irie logic!"

"Game, set, match, Onee-chan! Get rid of her yourself! Bye!"

Kotoko frowned at the cell phone. "Little brothers!"


	13. Chapter 13

Kotoko arrived later than usual one day, her face pale. Keita signaled his patient to continue and moved to her side. "Are you ill, Kotoko-san?"

"Do I look that bad?" she asked.

"In non-medical terms, you're a little green around the gills," he stated bluntly. "Plus, you haven't been looking well all week."

"I had a bit of an upset tummy this morning." She made a face. "It must have been all those cake samples."

"Cake samples?" he asked.

"Yeah, Obasama has been raiding bakeries for—never mind." There was no reason for him to know that the past few days she and Naoki had been taste-testing possible wedding cake combinations after dinner. Despite the fact that he hated sweets, Naoki was handling it better than she. He had actually been quite sympathetic this morning, wiping her forehead as she had cursed his mother's obsession while hurling whatever was left in her stomach.

"Your aunt is staying with you?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual manner. _Maybe that talk I had with her about workplace relationships took hold. Although,_ he belatedly realized, _if she is convinced to move back to Tokyo, that could also put_ me _out of the running, with all my big talk about not mixing work and love. Well,_ he shrugged mentally, _I'll cross that bridge when I come to it._

"Aunt? Oh, yeah, I guess you could call her that. Maybe I'll call her that again when I'm not so ticked off at her. So," she shook her head and gave him a small smile, "who's on the schedule today?"

"I'm currently working with Matsumi. She's on the treadmill for," he looked at his watch, "two and half more minutes, but besides Shiraki and Kosaka later today, the only other one is Naga-san."

"Yeah, he's always here," Kotoko breathed. "Plus, today is a photography day. Make sure his exercise clothes match this time so they don't make him change and cut into our real work even longer."

"Yes, Kotoko-san." He bowed.

* * *

"Destination wedding?" Kotoko struck the punch ball hard.

"Yeah," Naoki agreed, "her ideas are getting more and more out in left field."

She smacked it again violently. "Why would we want to travel to Fiji, and not only that, make our friends pay their own way there?"

"Right. I'm pretty sure Dad'll balk at footing the bill for everyone."

"The only reason I'd be willing to go someplace like that would be for a vacation."

"Or a honeymoon," he suggested.

"Well, we can't do that now, can we?" Her fists kept up a steady rhythm. "We damn outsmarted ourselves."

"Children!" Mrs. Irie emerged from the hall in flowery housecoat and bed cap. "I just had an inspiration! Jamaica!"

"Hell!" Kotoko gave the ball a smack with all of her strength. Considering that the piece of equipment had been an ancient hand-me-down, it had held together quite well over the years in her possession. But since Mrs. Irie's arrival it had received much more use, and one seam finally gave way. While Kotoko stared in awe at the arc of maize emerging from its interior, the still weighty ball rebounded off her face. "Ow!"

"Kotoko!"

"Kotoko-chan!"

Kotoko stared at the slowly deflating bag, its grain filling now making a pyramid-shaped pile on the floor. "Damn. No one's been able to land a blow on me like that since elementary school."

* * *

Keita gasped when he caught sight of Kotoko. "Kotoko-san! What happened?"

"Oh!" Her hand lifted to her face and then dropped. "Does it look that bad?" She was sporting a black eye and a butterflied cut on her cheekbone. Naoki had braided her hair away from the wound to avoid unnecessary contact.

"Did Irie-sensei do this?" His voice lowered confidentially.

"Yeah. He's pretty handy with hair."

"No, I mean your face." He gestured at her wound, peering at it closely.

"That too," she told him, thinking he meant the treatment and bandage. "He said I didn't need stitches this time."

" _This time?_ " Keita was appalled at her casual acceptance of the injury. And to think that she had led him to believe that she was no longer seeing him… "You know," he offered hesitantly, "you can talk to me at any time you want, if you're not comfortable with agencies or help lines."

"Huh?" Kotoko asked, eyes blank.

"If you need advice or therapy, or help in moving out. Although," he turned his head toward the door to the hospital, "I never would have thought Irie-sensei would be violent."

"Irie-sensei?" Kotoko's eyes expressed comprehension. "No, no," she laughed, waving her hands, "he had nothing to do with this. Actually," a finger touched the bandage with a wince, "I'm the more violent of us two."

"Right," he muttered, not believing a word of it.

* * *

Luckily the cut did not leave much of a scar, although Kotoko finally gave up on struggling to keep her hair away from it and went to the salon and had it chopped off. Mrs. Irie wailed and gnashed her teeth at the "butchering", as she put it. "At those prices, Obasama, at least the cut is 'prime' or 'choice'," Kotoko argued.

Naoki, when applied to, told his mother in no uncertain terms that it suited her and to "butt out".

"But it will be so hard to find a proper headpiece when it's that short!" she mourned. "Well, at least I'll make sure your complexion is flawless!"

Thus Kotoko had to endure several facial mask treatments from Mrs. Irie once the cut had healed over. When she whined about it, Naoki teased her, reminding her that at least during those sessions she didn't have to look at pictures of wedding decorations or locations.

"But now she's trying to decide on the music. I can still _hear!_ "

* * *

Keita had finally stopped hovering over her at work ( _And what was_ that _all about_? Kotoko wondered) as the internship approached its end. Ever since she had destroyed her punch ball, he had treated her as if she was fragile. _Which I'm definitely not!_ She chuckled to herself. _I suppose I should have given him the rundown on all my past injuries. Then he'd know how tough I am!_

She had also managed to shut him up about the possibility of relocating to Tokyo, a topic he had repeatedly brought up despite her stated lack of interest. _If I wasn't certain the guy didn't have a devious bone in his body, I'd suspect him of trying to oust me from my job so he could take it!_

As it was, this was his final week in Kobe. The afternoon was surprising slow, for once not booked with multiple patients. Keita was assisting "his" patient for the last time before handing over the care to her. Kotoko, deprived of an exercise outlet at home and currently at loose ends, decided to utilize the center's treadmill to try and work off a case of the doldrums.

While she was involved with that activity, two janitorial workers entered and began to methodically clean the inside of the tall windows. Phoebus emerged from his hall and commenced to dance slowly around the area, singing and humming softly with a pad of paper in his hand. As he drifted by her, Kotoko slowed the machine and asked what he was doing.

"I'm choreographing a new love song that I just finished."

"Huh," she said. "You've been pretty prolific during your recuperation."

"Yes," he smiled at her and fluttered his lashes, "this place is _full_ of inspiration."

"You're full of something else," she retorted as she began to step down.

Suddenly her face lost all color and she staggered. Phoebus dropped his papers and caught her, calling loudly for help. Keita abandoned his patient and rushed over to support her.

The window washers turned at the noise and proved to be Honda and Mrs. Irie. Honda tore Phoebus from Kotoko's side, snarling at him to remember his injury. Mrs. Irie attempted to do the same to Keita, who snapped back at her that he was a nurse and who did she think _she_ was?

His patient, seeing the tug of war, decided to be helpful and hobbled to the wall and hit the emergency buzzer.

By the time the first responders arrived, Keita had defeated Mrs. Irie's efforts and managed to lay Kotoko out on a bench. He was checking her pulse, trying to ignore the drama swirling around him.

"You must get back to your room! You're going to be exposed here!"

"Damn it, Honda, let go of me! That's my friend!" Phoebus snarled.

"Kotoko-chan! Kotoko-chan! Please wake up! Don't die!"

"Ma'am, she just passed out. Will you please move over so I can check her breathing?"

"No!" she wailed. "Get your hands off her!" Keita fell backwards as Mrs. Irie, on the opposite side of Kotoko's prone body, shoved him onto the floor.

The emergency aide with the crash cart pulled out his radio. "It's Aihara. Better page Dr. Irie. And Security wouldn't be a bad idea either."


	14. Chapter 14

An hour later Kotoko smiled sheepishly at Naoki from the bed in the second VIP suite. When he had arrived (at a run) he had ordered the personnel to move her there, since by then she had regained a measure of consciousness, albeit appearing a bit confused. None of the others in the room were in better condition, as they were trying to make sense of the overlapping shouting matches taking place.

"I finally get to find out what the VIP suite feels like from _this_ side," she joked, "and all I had to do was cause a riot."

"That's about your speed," he agreed, "so it's not too surprising."

"But this time I don't understand _how_ it happened. Why was everyone so noisy?" she asked. "And why was your mother here?"

"It appears that she and the manager joined forces to keep you under surveillance." As this prompted another "Why?" he explained, "They seemed to think that you were having a fling with either Nagayama or Kamogari. Or possibly both."

Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "I knew your mother was crazy, but Honda must have pushed her over the edge to have her suspect me of _that_. Of course, being in show business, she's probably started to believe the weird stories she makes up."

"Well, she got what she deserved. Apparently they were both lambasting Nagayama for writing a love song about you."

* * *

"What? You know that you are not allowed to date!"

"Don't you dare think that you are going to steal my Kotoko-chan away! Why, she and my son are just as good as married, you homewrecker!"

"You can't call him a homewrecker in front of all these people! It might reach the press! What about the publicity?"

"Who cares about the publicity? _You_ need to control that gaudy flash in the pan!"

"What do you mean, 'flash in the pan'? I'll have you know that he has had five straight years of number one hits and consistently tops the lists of teenaged girl preferences!"

"Pbbth! Teenagers! I'll have you know that my Kotoko-chan is not so easily swayed."

"Uh, Honda-chan?"

* * *

"Imagine their surprise when he told them that the song was written about Kamogari."

"Na-kun? In love with—?" Kotoko placed a hand over her mouth. "What was Keita-san's reaction?"

Naoki snorted. "I don't think I've ever seen a person turn that red so quickly. He mumbled something about 'thanks but no thanks'."

"Really? What a disappointment for Na-kun. But you know," she said thoughtfully, "I'm pretty sure that Keita likes _someone_. I wonder who it is?"

He opened his mouth to reveal his suspicions then thought better of the idea. "At any rate, the news was quite a shock to his manager. I don't think she was aware that her main money-maker swung both ways."

"Huh!" Kotoko's eyes lost focus, recalling the visit of the Tokyo nurses. "Now she has more fake stories to make up. Well," she shook her head, "at least _I'm_ out of the picture."

"Not quite." He grinned at her. "I believe the latest news flash is that you just had a dramatic collapse at the realization that your childhood sweetheart will soon be departing your care."

She folded her arms. "That's a better story than the fact that two people who work in the medical field can't count."

"Mom disrupted so many of our schedules that _that_ one got lost in the shuffle," he chuckled. He pulled one hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "She's going to try to take credit for the baby," he warned.

Kotoko frowned. "That's impossible. We haven't been able to, _you know,_ ever since she got here."

"Yes." Naoki's grin widened. "I expect it was that living room ravishment that I was subjected to shortly before we had to visit the family in May."

Her fingers moved while she stared at the ceiling. "Yes, that would be right. That was," she snickered, "a little spontaneous. But," she turned to him, "are you happy about it?"

"Well," his mouth twisted, "not about having to tell Mom about the marriage _and_ baby at the same time."

"Yikes."

He laid his head on the pillow facing her. "But yes, I am very happy with this result of a decade of loving you."

"Ten?" Again Kotoko's fingers counted. "We only met eight years ago."

"You forget," he touched her nose with a forefinger. " _I_ was awake during our freshman opening ceremony."

"Oh. That." She made a face.

"I kept looking for the girl who had the audacity to sleep during my brilliant speech," she swatted his forehead, "plus make me laugh out loud in front of the whole school. Of course, I didn't know why my eyes kept being drawn to you, and being the insufferable ass that I could be back then, never asked your name. So it was both a surprise and delight when I discovered you under the collection banner after the earthquake."

"You never told me that!" she accused.

"What? And admit that I fell for you first? What about my masculine pride?"

"Ha! You know what I think of masculine pride. Anyway, how're we going to tell the folks?"

Naoki closed his eyes a few moments. "Let's ask off for Tanibata in a couple weeks and force her home to Tokyo. She'll go crazy for awhile after the announcement, but at least with the rest of the family around, the annoyance should be diluted."

"How are we going to survive her wedding plans in the meantime?" she asked.

This time his grin was evil. "She's still working on the music, isn't she? Just tell her that you want to use Resplendent Olympus songs extensively. It should take her a few days to go through their repertoire and decide which ones are 'appropriate'."

When Kotoko recovered from her giggle fit, she tugged on his hand, "Hey, you don't think she's going to want to return and stay with us until the baby is born, do you think?"

He grimaced. "We're going to have to find a new place with a password or fingerprint lock."

"Or both!" she laughed.

* * *

A/N: So, in case you didn't catch the hints, Kotoko and Naoki registered their marriage the morning after they returned to Kobe from Tokyo. (Remember, they arrived to work late and were holding hands when accosted with the news of the arrival of Phoebus?) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, although I feel like not a whole lot happened in comparison to the earlier stories in the series. However, as I stated in the beginning, this was great therapy after my previous angst-fest. I'm currently working on another non-canon pairing tale—sorry, not Yuuki! It is already longer than this one, but I'm not sure when I'll be ready to begin posting chapters. As always, thanks for reading!


End file.
